


Complexity of Death

by TamiTheOxyMoron



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Harry Potter Raises Tom Riddle, Harry raises Tom, M/M, Master of Death, Master of Death Harry Potter, Possessive Tom Riddle, Powerful Harry, Time Travel, Young Tom Riddle, harry adopts tom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-01-21 03:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12448473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TamiTheOxyMoron/pseuds/TamiTheOxyMoron
Summary: Death is at Harry's doorsteps with a new life in store for the Master of Death. Harry travel's back in time and finds himself adopting young Tom Riddle in hopes to change the future Dark Lord's fate, well-aware of the darkness that lurks deep and dormant in the shadows of Tom's mind. (SLASH)





	1. Chapter 1

Enjoy this new story!~ Please don't forget to review!  
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Harry sat near the fire, feeling wary and cold. He could feel the creep of approaching death from deep within his bones.

"I know you're here," Harry said quietly.

A dark shadow emerged from the seeps of the wall, forming a tall, imposing hooded figure shrouded in black mist and cascading in vengeful hunger to claim.

"Has my time finally come?" The old, wise wizard asked, his body shifting in the rouge cushioned chair.

As always, the spirit never responded and merely crept over his body like a predator readying itself to bounce on it's prey.

"Are you going to continue hovering over me like a dementor or should I get you a chair?"

Death hissed in disgust, "Don't you dare compare me to such a lowly spirit with loose morals!"

Harry shrugged, "Why not? You both float and can't walk."

The spirit mused overhead, filling the room with cold air and the smell of approaching death.

"You never cease to amuse me, human. No breathing creature has ever spoken to me with such insolence."

"Would you rather I kneel on my knees and kiss your feet? Oh wait, you don't have any!" He laughed.

Death did not take kindly to his sarcastic remark, the sprits mist of darkness washing over his ancient, fragile body like black fog and sending chills down his spine. Pure terror surged through his veins, icy daggers straight to the heart.

"Stop it," he gasped, "I know it's just an illusion."

"Fear has always been an illusion," Death responded, "It is but ghosts of children's nightmares, holds no true form and weaves into hearts of all."

"I'm not afraid of death," Harry retaliated back, venom dripping from his tone.

"No, you do not, that is clear as day." It said, the creature stirred and the wind outside his cottage picked up, banging harshly against the thin glass.

"Although, there was one young orphan who feared my might to the extent of splitting his precious soul. As I recall, you two were once very well acquainted."

Harry clenched his teeth in an effort to keep his quivering jaw still.

"Have you journeyed all the way from the depths of hell merely to insult me?"

Death's vile presence alone hung like a threatening storm over the peace of his mind.

"Nothing of the sort, my Master of Death. I exist for the purpose to prey on hate, greed, anger, loneliness, despair and take dying souls to their rightful place in the afterlife. Not to insult meaningless creations of god."

Harry resisted the urge to snort. "I'm afraid to say your great choice of a career has become rather lax nowadays, considering you have the time to visit me so often."

"I have not come to drink tea with you, Harry Potter. Your existence in this life has finally come to an end."

The old man rolled his emerald eyes, "Is it a habit of vengeful spirits to talk so much? Hurry up and get this business over and done with."

Death reaches his gnarled hands and curled it's fingers on Harry's side, clinging to his ribs and settling uncomfortably in his chest.

"Although most tragically, Mr. Potter, you will never be reunited with your loved ones."

The dread of the spirits words crept over Harry like an icy chill, numbing his brain and quickening his breath. He stared blankly at the hooded figure, his mind worryingly empty.

"I don't understand," he said weakly.

"Of course you do not, Master of Death."

"Don't call me that!" Harry snapped, protesting pitifully against the demons grasp on his body.

"Why ever not? You possess all three of my gifts."

"You can take them back for all I care! But you will not stop me from seeing my family."

A cackle resonated from under his hood and Harry imagined a wide, malicious grin widening on his hidden face.

"That is impossible, Master of Death."

"I said stopping calling me that," Harry Potter roared, his body coursing with unavoidable rage.

"Would you prefer Conqueror of Death? Vanquisher of Death?"

Harry looked thoughtful before breaking out in a cheshire grin, "You may call me all that but only if every time you took a life, you called yourself Mr. Potter's love-struck, biggest, die-hard fan."

"That will never happen."

He pouted, feigning an upset appearance, "You're so boring. How about just Mr. Potter's number one worshipping fanboy?"

"Quiet!" Death's voice boomed, the wooden floor planks shook and a blue china vase came crashing to the ground. A nervous kind of energy tingled through his body and Harry recognized it as anticipation.

Potter swallowed away his growing anxiety and asked, "What do you mean I cannot be reunited with my family?"

"You cannot die, Mr. Potter. Your wretched soul will walk the land for eternity."

"Well, isn't that just brilliant?" he sighed, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Indeed it is." Death agreed.

"I was being sarcastic!" Harry said abruptly, "So what now? Am I going to be an old man forever?"

"Unfortunately no." The spirit told him.

"Yes, it really is unfortunate. I really like being old, not having to work is very nice."

There was an awkward silence in the room before Death finally said,

"You're a strange one, Harry Potter although still a worthy possessor of the Hallows."

"I'm a worthy possessor of the Hallows because I agreed with you that I liked being old?" Harry muttered.

Death's shadows suddenly began to suffocate his body like a damp, musty, thick blanket, clinging to every inch of his wrinkled skin.

"When one wishes to be immortal, they often imagine it to be in their best self. A young, graceful and honourable age."

Harry shuddered uncomfortably at Death's invading darkness that continued to wrap itself around his body like a cocoon.

"What are you even doing?"

Harry's breathing became erratic, deep then shallow as the forbidding blackness continued to travel up his stiff body in currents.

"Can you smell it?" The spirit hissed into his ear, "The thick aroma of your fear?"

Harry sniffed in distate. What a creep.

"Perhaps your nose is just too sensitive."

The spirit chose to ignore him and reached his bony hand towards his face, while laughing a cruel, cold cackle that froze Harry as a single sharp nail grazed down his cheek.

"I will send you to the past, Harry Potter. From there on, you will walk alone and decide your new fate."

Before Harry could retort back, he felt himself being sucked into a darkness so total that he couldn't be sure he had eyes. The blackness engulfed his thoughts, stretching out in front of him and warping into the deepest depths of his mind.

"Good luck," Was the dark spirits final farewell before vanishing.

Harry Potter, the misfortunately proclaimed Master of Death, found himself in the middle of a bustling city of London.

How did he know it was London?

All he had to do was look up and gaze upon the dark grey clouds. Could he be anywhere else?

Judging by the out of date clothes and un-modern muggle buildings, the accursed devil spawn had truly did send him to the past. Ignoring the busy muggles, Harry pushed himself past the crowd all the while grumbling quietly to himself.

The inner city was flooded by a sea of people heading in different directions. The higher class people strutted down the high street carrying their leather handbags and wearing their expensive coats. Whereas the lower class people sat down on the cold littered floor begging for money.

Judging by their clothing, Harry would have guessed this year must be around the 1940's. Honestly, he had no clue, Harry had never been much of a history geek.

Within second, Harry found the entrance to the leaky cauldron and noticed it was the exact same as in the future. For a famous place, it had always been very dark and shabby.

Harry entered through the front and ignored the patrons. He sat at the bar and waved over a pinch-faced, plump-looking young girl who reminded Harry of his dead Chihuahua.

"A cup of your strongest fire whiskey will be just perfect, thank you."

The woman ogled at him before breaking out into a huge smile that made even Harry cringe.

"Of course, sir!" She giggled, clumsily winking at him.

She left, dancing as she pranced off to get his order.

What just happened. Did she really just wink at him?

Harry raised his head and froze as he made eye contact with the infuriating handsome glass cabinet reflection straight ahead of him.

He almost gaped at the emerald-eyed beauty before remembering he was in a public place. Of all appearances Death could've given him, that damned spirit just had to make him drop-dead gorgeous.

Groaning, Harry buried his face in his mind and calmed himself.

"Here you are, sir!" The chihuahua woman said, deciding again it was a perfect time to send a horribly timed eye-wink. She must've thought she look positively cute but Harry thought she looked constipated.

Harry glared back at his unrecognizable reflection. He had a beautiful face. Well defined, with a sharp jaw and angular cheekbones. The complexion of his skin going well with his luscious green eyes. He looked down for a moment, before bringing the alcohol to his lips. The burning sensation pouring down his throat, creating a warm feeling deep inside of his stomach.

"Soooo~" An annoying voice said, interrupting his thoughts. "What brings you to these parts of town?"

The girl played stupidly with a single brown ringlet, biting her bottom lip in a gesture to look … adorable? submissive?

"Work." he shrugged, hoping his brisk, snappy response would send her away.

"Oh ho!" she gasped, beaming, "What sort of work?"

"It's classified information." Also known as unemployed.

"Well, I like classy!" the woman murmured, licking her lips and pouting her wet lips.

Harry suddenly had an urge to puke. Suddenly, an idea came to his mind.

"Do you by any chance know the date?"

"Hmmm…" She twiddled her thumbs and Harry had a nauseous feeling that she really knew what day it was but she was wasting time on purpose.

"I believe it's January 18th."

"Ah yes! And what year?"

Her blue eyes stared at him with sudden confusion before saying, "1934."

Harry nodded, "Ah, I must thank you greatly, young damsel. I have been asleep in my coffin for a few hundred or so years. It's been so long since I last had a feast of a fresh youngling such as yourself. Do you by any chance know the best place to go blood-drinking? Somewhere that gathers lots of young pretty girls. I prefer brunettes, y'know?"

This time, he winked at her and the woman stared at him perplexed, before stuttering a quick and hasty good-bye.

Harry sat in his chair, brooding before coming into a quick realization. Tom Morvolo Riddle, the future Dark Lord, was still an orphan and was not yet in Hogwarts.

Smiling over the new found information, Harry suddenly stood, gathered his thoughts and hurried out of the leaky cauldron but not before dropping a few silver coins on the wooden bar table.

In a second, he apparated himself out of the bustling inner city into the outskirts where Wool's orphanage was located.

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The one emotion that Tom despised more then anything, was the feeling of being powerless. Tom had been slowly learning to control his new-found power and as a child, he learned that with patience and control, Tom had an upper-hand compared to the other orphaned children. He could easily manipulate their emotions into fear by simply forcing his mysterious energy to topple of few orphans down the stairs, slash cuts into their arms and legs or even cause excruciating pain to those who angered him without as much as raising a hand.

He had first learned of death when he hung Billy Stubb's rabbit from the rafters. The idiotic orphan boy cried for ages and Tom felt not an inkling of regret. He hated them all and that was a simple fact. He viewed them all as inferior beings with no self-control and irritable emotions.

All the orphans were weak, including the adults and matrons who attended to them. Tom knew he possessed a special, unexplained talent and that made him euphoric.

At seven years of age, Tom Riddle was viewed as a very handsome boy, solemn and intelligent, who hardly if rarely interacted with any of the children. The children knew to stay clear out of his path and the adults who at first saw him no more then a shy child, started to question his odd behaviour.

"He's the devil's child!" one of the orphanages laundress lady had once said. "I've heard him hissing behind bushes! And I mean actual hissing like a snake! Back in my day, such behaviour was beaten out before it could let loose."

Instead of feeling offended, Tom grinned maliciously. She feared him and fear was good. Fear resonated power.

Unfortunately, his aura of power and terror did not stop him from being bullied. Dennis Bishop, an ugly boy of ten and thrice the size of Tom enjoyed ganging up on the handsome boy with his equally unrully and unattractive side kicks.

"Hey Riddle," the ugly boy smirked, towering over Tom who sat idly on his small, dingy bed. It was nightfall and almost bed-time but that didn't stop his tormenters from seeking the young boy.

"Do you want to play a game?" Dennis grinned, revealing his abnormally crooked teeth.

"No." Tom replied simply, focusing his attention back to reading his book.

Suddenly, he felt the book being ripped from his grip and Tom jumped to his feet, eyes gleaming in pure loathing.

"Give it back!" He growled.

Benjamin Jackins didn't respond, instead he raised the book higher in his hand.

"Whatchu gonna do, Riddle? Hit me with a stuffed pillow?"

Billy snorted, "I bet ya he can't even lift a pillow!"

It was a stupid, meaningless insult but the three boys still broke into fits of laughter as if it was the funniest thing ever said.

 _'I'll show them what's funny.'_ Riddle thought to himself.

Tom focused his dark eyes onto Benjamin's raised fist and smiled when he saw the bully jump back in surprise, hissing in pain.

"The freak cursed me!" He cried, cradling his hand, "He cursed me!"

The boys glared at their victim who gazed back with a guarded expression, although he was dancing in victory on the inside.

"Alright boys," Dennis cackled, rolling up his sleeves, "Lets show Riddle the Freak how it's done around here."

"Lets beat him to the pulp!" Billy cried, his voice a squeak.

Their eyes gleamed and Dennis made the first move like always, raising his fist and crashing it against Tom's nose before he even had time to dodge.

Tom stumbled back, crying out in pain before quickly clamping his mouth shut. He mustn't show any weakness. Tom wasn't able to concentrate his power back at them, quickly losing concentration with each fist that collided against his small body. Six rough hands aimed at his vital spots and Tom was forced to curl his body in self-defence.

"Not so strong now, are you? Freak?" Dennis laughed.

"Freak, freak, freak." The other boys chorused.

"Riddle the Freak!" They cried, echoing the phrase like a song routine.

A sudden gush of pain jolted throughout Tom's body. His stomach ached, his arms lost tension and his legs began to weaken. Head pounding, Tom tried once more to gather his power against the boys but found himself to battered and winded to do anything. A gush of wind was all he managed to create, the window rattling and a small stool falling over. Riddle silently hoped that would send them off running but it only made the situation worse.

"He's doing it again." screamed Billy, "He's doing that weird, freaky thing."

The kicks against his body increased and Riddle finally let the tears roll down his face from the pain.

"Not so strong now, are ya?" one of them mocked.

He tasted copper in his mouth and spat a large amount of blood out of his mouth. The sight of so much blood finally made the boys cease their kicking.

A hand cuffed his collar and slightly raised him, "Hey Freak, you alive?"

The voice was taunting but Tom could hear a level of uncertainty.

He turned to face the boy who spoke to him but there was no longer any trace of tears, not in his eyes or in track marks on his reddening face. His eyes were narrowed, rigid, cold, hard.

"I hate you," Riddle muttered venomously.

"He's alive, Dennis. Let's go quickly before the matron comes." Ben said, eyeing the door apprehensively.

The bully nodded, dropping Tom on the floor none to gently.

"I'll see you tomorrow, freak. You better watch your back."

With those last words, the gang left.

Tom lay on the bed, blood seeping beneath his skin, ribs fractured and arm twisted in an awkward angle.

He wouldn't cry, he told himself. Crying is for weaklings and he wasn't a weakling. But even then, Tom couldn't refrain the tears from bursting forth like water from a dam, spilling down his face and trailing down to his trembling chin.

He lay stiff and broken like a doll on the bed, slowly feeling himself drifting to unconciousness.

Tom awoke to warmth and tranquility. Blinking lazily, Tom thought it odd that he felt a lack of pain and gasped audibly when he felt a smooth hand stroke his raven black locks.

"You're awake, I see." Said an unfamiliar, yet soothing voice.

Tom raised his head and found himself staring at the eyes of glimmering emeralds.

"Who are you?" he croaked, struggling against a warm body that held him down.

"Calm down or you'll hurt yourself…" the man said, "You're still weak from your injuries."

Tom didn't respond, choosing instead to glare suspiciously at the handsome man. His curls were a tousled brown and his eyes were a beautiful vivid green, framed by graceful brows.

"Back to the topic of your injuries, will you tell me how you got them?"

Riddle stiffened and growled, "That's none of your business, old man," he snapped.

"Hey, I'm not old! I'm… oh never mind, I guess I am pretty old."

Tom stared at the strange man, expressionless and cautious.

"I don't want you here," Tom said coldly, "Leave me alone."

Surprisingly, the attractive man smiled, "Aren't you going to thank me for healing you?"

Riddle opened his mouth to retort back but closed it immediately when he realized his body was fully healed, without a single scratch or mark of the earlier events. All the pain he felt before disappeared… like magic.

"What did you do?" He demanded, curling his hands into fists.

He didn't respond and stared back at him amused.

"Tell me!" Tom ordered harshly, his tone ringing superiority, "Tell me what you did and who you are!"

"All I did was heal you and I'm… Harry."

"Harry who?"

The man hesitated before slowly saying, "Harry Gaunt."

Tom stared at him blankly before saying, "You're lying. Tell me who you really are."

"I'm Harry Gaunt," he repeated, a warm smile plastered on his face. His expression was so kind and caring that it made Tom, who was so unused to affection, incredibly uncomfortable.

"How did you heal me?" Tom asked authoritatively, his dark eyes meeting the green eyes so fiercely that it would make any adult balk but this one didn't budge and continued to gaze warily down at him.

"You will find out soon enough," Harry said calmly, caressing his cheek.

Unwillingly, Tom leaned to his touch but quickly drew back, his small face staring at the stranger in horror. Did he really just lean into his touch? Riddle felt absolutely disgusted at himself and using all his strength, pushed the man away from him.

The man did not seem to mind, instead choosing to slowly unbutton his luxurious dark wool coat. "Do you want to come home with me?" he asked unexpectedly, making Tom's breath hitch.

"No, you're strange and I don't like you and I will never like you. If you adopt me, I will only grow to hate you!" Riddle replied sternly, his eyes glowering with intense displeasure.

Tom expected the man to look offended but instead he merely gave him a small smile.

"I understand," Harry said softly, "But remember, if you ever change your mind, just call my name and I will come and get you."

The orphan was about to say that he will never call for him but Riddle felt oddly sedated and all of a sudden very, very weary. His mind grew foggy and his eyes drooped close.

"What did you do to me?" Tom groaned, hating how feeble he sounded.

"It's time to sleep." Harry said, slipping his costly fur coat off and draping it on top of the small, skinny child.

"Call my name when you need me and I will return…" Was the last words Tom remembered hearing before the dark bliss overtook him.

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	2. Never Alone

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Harry took a deep breath, wringing his hands restlessly. In this lifetime, Harry had no magical education backing him up so finding a job in the Wizarding world will be difficult without the necessary O.W.L's and N.E.W.T.s.

He skimmed through the Daily Prophet, searching through the employment advertisements. Harry skimmed past the job posting of wanted bar tenders in Knockturn alley and Ministy of Magic dragon-feeders, focusing on the black and gold ad on an employment position in the Gringott's Wizarding Bank.

_"Are you seeking a challenging career involving travel, adventure, and substantial, danger-related treasure bonuses? Then consider a position with Gringotts Wizarding Bank, who are currently recruiting Curse-Breakers for thrilling opportunities abroad."_

Harry recalled Bill Weasley once complaining how greedy the goblins would be when paying Curse-Breakers, especially new employees who they viewed as inexperienced children who leeched from the Gringotts Bank after graduating Hogwarts. The profession was said to be very serious and extremely dangerous, something Harry Potter was very well used to.

"Might as well try applying..." Harry muttered faintly to himself.

His current plan was to adopt Tom Riddle but Harry Potter was stuck in the past with no job, money or possessions except for the blasted Hallows that got him into this mess in the first place.

Harry climbed up a set of white stairs leads up to a set of burnished bronze doors and entered the Gringotts Wizarding Bank. It was an imposing, tall building with high ceilings similar to Hogwarts but without the aura of warmth and welcome.

The goblins sat stiff and proper in their high, polished desks, bluntly ignoring their surroundings; including their very own customers. Harry sighed, knowing that their was no love lost between the two races and the goblins were rarely, if ever polite to Wizards and Witches.

He approached the front desk where an elderly goblin sat with grey, thinning hair and deep-set, cold yet clever eyes. The goblin stared down at Harry from the high desk, observing him past his hooked nose.

"You only come to the front desk if you're seeking employment," the bearded goblin said, his voice cold and indifferent.

Harry, so very used to dealing with unfriendly folk, kindly gazed at him while positively beaming which only made the goblin further narrow his eyes in distrust.

"Ah, yes! Well, I'm happy that I came to the right spot."

"You will call me Mr. Rangrok, wand-bearer." The goblin called Rangrok drawled.

"Of course, Mr. Rangrok." He said politely, his face an mask of sincerity. The old goblin locked gazes with Harry before returning back to his business-like stance.

"Do you have prior experience dealing with dragons?" Rangrok firmly asked.

 _'I've flown on a dragon's back once after robbing a Gringott's bank',_ Harry had a sudden urge to say.

"No, Mr. Rangrok. I have come to apply for the position of a Curse-Breaker."

"We are only hiring part-time." The goblin remarked crudely.

Harry nodded and without further a due, provided the goblin with his forgery Hogwarts grade transcripts. As expected from the capability of the elder wand, Mr. Rangrok was easily fooled by the false O.W.L and N.E.W.T results that Harry had enchanted.

For the first time since he's possessed the elder wand, Harry silently thanked the prowess of the most powerful magical wand in the history of Wizard-kind. Without the fabled Hallow, Harry would not have been able to cast such a strong enchantment that easily fooled a high Gringott's official.

"When can you start, Mr. Gaunt?" the goblin said, reading the black inked name on the corner of the transcript.

"As soon as possible," Harry said, Mr. Rangrok gazed down at him, pleased with the new addition's eagerness to work.

"Your wages will be 23 galleons weekly. The more gold you bring into Gringott's, the higher your wage will increase."

He acknowledged the amount, calculating his monthly allowance in his head. Goblins really were stingy and to be able to support a growing child, Harry would have to get another part-time job.

Regardless of the low wage, Harry left Gringott's in high spirits. His next step was to search for a suitable home to raise a seven-year old, preferably a cottage in a well-oriented Wizarding neighbourhood.

Even though Tom blatantly stated he did not want to live with him, Harry was very certain that over time, he would be able to easily persuade the child to become apart of his family.

Harry abruptly felt a cold shudder down his back and he stared listlessly at the grey sky mixed with white and frowned. A storm was coming.

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Tom moaned restlessly from the tapping sun-light against his face, he blinked a few times before shutting his eyes. The memories from the night before hit him like a storm and Riddle quickly sat up, causing a long black coat to slip off his body and onto the cold wooden floor.

He stared at the fallen coat in surprise before frowning. So that man wasn't a dream.

Gingerly, Tom retrieved the expensive clothing and cradled it against his chest. It was warm, comfortable and startlingly soothing.

"Harry..." he murmured the man's name, half-expecting him to come. Tom sat still in his bed for a few minutes before growing grim and dismayed. Of course the man lied to him. No one wanted Tom, not even his mother. He was, after all, just an penniless orphan.

Furiously angry at being deceived, Tom jumped to his feet without any sign of soreness, weakness or discomfort. That suspicious man had fully heal him, not a single scratch nor bruise marked his smooth skin.

But the question was, how? It was impossible to completely heal a person overnight unless...

His thoughts were interrupted by a shrill voice calling his name.

"Tom!" He heard the matron, Mrs. Cole cry out. "Tom, why aren't you downstairs for breakfast?" she snapped, huffing up her chest like a peacock.

He didn't respond, instead choosing to shove past her and head down to the dining room. The matron was long used to Tom's dismissive behaviour so she often let it side, muttering under her breath while trailing behind him.

The dining room was filled with young children, dressed in grey drabs as they sat crowded in small wooden chairs. Tom hurried past all of them and sat stiffly in his usual table, glaring at the young children who quickly scurried away with their trays to find another place to eat. It was a common rule amongst the orphans that no one was allowed to sit with Tom unless they wished to choke on their meal from an invisible hand.

Feeling absolute, Tom sat in his private, empty table and glowered furiously at the three boys who sat further down in the cafeteria. Riddle's dark eyes made eye contact with Dennis and he grinned when he saw those eyes shining with fear.

'Yes...' Riddle thought to himself, 'Be scared of me... I will get my revenge and it will be far from gentle.'

Breakfast was a plain bowl of porridge, tasteless and bland like the orphanage itself but Tom couldn't bring himself to care. He was going to get vengeance on the bullies and it was going to be sweet like sugar. After the meal was done, Tom set his plan in motion and easily wormed his way into the crowd, trailing behind Dennis, his first victim.

The orphans were quickly given chores to do and Tom was able to switch duties with another girl so he and Dennis both shared the same chores. Sneakily, Riddle with his pail filled with water, stalked Dennis Bishop before confronting him near the kitchens.

"Hello Dennis," Tom said cooly, watching as Dennis turned around, taken back by Tom's sudden appearance out of nowhere.

"What d'you want freak?" he spat, cracking his knuckles to appear threatening.

Tom merely grinned, watching the boy in predatory precision. With a hidden force, Riddle concentrated his power and energy at Dennis's knee and didn't cease his unwavering attention until he heard a loud crack and the boy's pained howl.

"What're you doing to me?" he cried, tears brimming in his eyes while cradling his broken leg.

"Revenge..." Tom said easily, casually pouring water onto the marbled floor.

Dennis's loud wails quickly brought a nearby maid's attention, she immediately rushed over to the blubbering boys side and began to soothe him.

"What's wrong, what's wrong?" she asked him repeatedly.

Dennis didn't answer, instead he pointed a single finger at Tom and howled louder.

The young girl glared at Riddle and snapped, "What did you do?"

"Nothing ma'am..." Tom said innocently, an angelic mask placed perfectly on his face. "Dennis slipped on the wet surface while cleaning... I tried to help him but he kept on pushing me away..."

The blonde girl did not respond, continuing to try and calm the hysterical boy down.

"What's going on?" An ear-splitting cry echoed. Mrs. Tanner, a sharp-edged woman with a nefarious glare and tawny hair pulled back in a tight bun stomped over. She didn't need to ask for an explanation, one single glance at Tom and she already come into a conclusion.

"It's you again, you little beast!" She hissed, "You always do this, don't you? You vermin know very well Wool's orphanage cannot afford expensive medical treatments and yet you continue these vile antics of yours."

"I don't know what you mean..." Tom began naively before being interrupted.

"Don't you dare act innocent, boy! I know you've caused this, don't you dare say you played no part."

Riddle bit his bottom lip from snapping back at the woman.

"Ma'am, It wasn't Tom, it was the spilled water..." intervened the blonde maidservant, cradling Dennis closer to her chest.

"Quiet, you foolish girl. When Jack Rawtling broke his fingers, Tom was there. When Kelly Gratchen fell off the stairs, guess who was standing on the top steps? No one but our dear, little Tom Riddle. Billy Stubb's rabbit was found hanging from the rafters, minutes after getting in an argument with Tom. This boy plays the innocent bystander but not today, I will not have it!" Mrs. Tanner roared, grabbing ahold of Tom's thin arm.

The strict woman dragged Tom down the hallway, past hallow, curious faces of children and worried glances from fellow adults, yet none intervened because everyone knew never to interfere with and her vile temper. They reached the backyard exit and with a quick opening shove of the door, Mrs. Tanner harshly pushed Tom into the open cold.

"You will stay here Tom until you repent for your sins. May god grant your corrupt soul mercy!" she spat, crossing herself in prayer before shutting the door closed with a loud thud.

Tom stood there, hatred bubbling from the pit of his stomach and spreading like wildfire. The air was like a frozen lace on his skin, delicate and cold. The sunlight began to fade and the wintry air swirled around Tom, taking every lick of warmth it could. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself, pulling his thin sweater closer to his chest and tucking his chin downward into his pullover.

The cold air made Tom grow bitter as he stumbled in the thick snow, hissing in pain when he fell upon a sharp rock. Hatred climbed up under his skin and pumped fury into his veins.

"One day I will kill them all," he promised bitterly to himself.

He sat still in the snow, shaking and frozen. Salty, warm tears fell from his eyes and Tom wiped them away fiercely. Crying was for weaklings and Tom was never a weakling.

He gathered his magic power and used it to warm his body as the day went on. Hours passed and soon the sun fell from the sky and the world went dark; it was a moonless night.

Even though Tom was resilient, piece by piece, his walls came tumbling down. The bitter frost that prickled painfully against Tom's soft flesh was suddenly all too much to bear and Tom slammed into the door. The sobs punched through, ripping through his muscles, bones, and guts. Riddle pressed his forehead against the grimy door outside the orphanage and screamed.

"Let me in!" He cried, tears freezing on his wind-burnt cheeks. "Let me in, please, please, let me in!"

There was no answer, but the sound of the whistling winter air as if jeering at his misfortune. Images of sparkling emerald eyes and dark tousled hair raced through his mind.

"Harry, Harry, Harry..." He repeated, like a prayer verse.

The snowstorm continued to pick up, swirling around him like a tornado.

"Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry..." Tom called, sobs raking his frail body.

 _'He's not going to come, you idiot.'_ A sinister voice spoke inside him. _'No one wants you.'_

"No one wants me," Riddle repeated, hallowed and dead.

"Thats not true."

Tom turned and stared dumbstruck at the tall figure that approached and knelt down, arms wide and lovely red lips formed into a smile. The enchanting green eyes met his and Tom thought he looked divine. Riddle made no movement to embrace Harry; who waited patiently until the man couldn't anymore and pulled the orphan into his snug embrace.

Losing all self control, Tom sobbed into his chest unceasingly, hands clutching at his coat. Harry held him in silence, rocking him slowly as Tom's tears soaked his chest. Blinking lashes heavy with tears, Tom stared up at the gentle face before he collapsed again, his howls of misery worsening. The pain must have come in waves, minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses for recovering breaths.

Harry unbuttoned his long coat and wrapped Tom around his body, filling his shivering, small frame with heat. With remarkable gentleness, Riddle was lifted from the ground and held securely at his saviour's chest.

"Let's go home," Harry said.

Tom Riddle didn't respond instead burying his face in the crook of Harry's shoulder.

Home sounded like a beautiful place.


	3. Hustle and Bustle of Diagon Alley

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Harry sat quiet as a mouse beside the sleeping child, running his hand through his own messy hair and sighing.

What sort of medieval orphanage was this? First, he found the boy half-dead in his room, now this time, locked outside in the middle of winter and shivering like a lost puppy.

 _'No wonder he became the Dark Lord. Living in a dreadful place like that,'_ Harry mused to himself.

The weak boy shuffled in his bed, moaning in pain before blinking his dark eyes and locking gazes with Harry. Tom narrowed his eyes and slowly edged away.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Harry said softly, reaching his hand to touch his shoulder only to find the orphan flinch and pull back.

Heaving another sigh, he grabbed a flask and pulled it open.

"It's Pepper-Up Potion, designed to cure the common cold." he explained.

Riddle's face remained deadpanned, "I've never heard of it," Tom said huskily.

"No, you wouldn't have." Harry responded, lifting the opening of the flasks close to Tom's lips.

The boy sniffed the potion and balked in disgust, "I don't want it!" he retorted, before breaking into fits of dry coughs. By slow, torturous degrees, the coughs eased in intensity and then slowly passed.

"I know you don't want it, but you need it."

This time, Tom grudgingly complied and took a small sip of the potion, his face twisting in a repulsed disposition. Harry helped him finish the potion, rubbing comforting circles on his heaving back. Riddle squirmed at the contact but was too weary and ill to stop him.

He handed Tom a warm cup of spiced apple cider and watched him drink the hot cider, his thin lips curled in slight pleasure.

When Tom had finished, he set his drink aside and glared back at Harry with the same guarded expression.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want to adopt you." Harry replied.

They stayed silent for a while before Tom asked, "Why?"

"Because we're family," Technically what Harry was saying wasn't a lie. They were distantly related through the Peverell family line.

Tom's face flickered with an startled delight before quickly returning back to its expressionless facade. The handsome orphan didn't respond, instead he gazed at Harry like a hawk would it's prey.

Feeling eerily uncomfortable, Harry cleared his throat, "I'm related to you through your mother. Her name is…"

"I don't care what her name is!" Tom growled, with hatred so ferocious for a young child. "They told me she worked at a circus. Do you work at a circus too? No wonder you're so peculiar."

Harry guffawed at the insult, "No, I do not work at a circus and neither did your mother."

"Was she a whore then? My father must've been her customer. No one would actually marry a whore unless they were in their wrong minds."

He gave the boy an funny look before shaking his head, "No, she was not."

"You must've have never known her because you weren't upset or angry that I called her a whore."

The time-travelled smiled, bemused by the boy's sharpness, "You're right, I am a distant relation. I've never known your mother."

Out of nowhere, wrath engulfed the boy like a deadly poison, "And who do you think you are, coming out of nowhere and kidnapping me? I never said I wanted to live with you!"

Annoyed by his tantrums, Harry rubbed his knuckles and easily hid his irritation with a small smile.

"That is understandable, if you don't want to live with me, I can return you to the orphanage tomorrow morning."

Tom was clearly not expecting that answer and bit his bottom lip in frustration.

"No, what is done is done. I'm not going back there."

Harry couldn't hold back the escaped grin, much to Tom's agitation.

"You never answered my question the first time we met."

Harry hummed, dipping a clean, white cloth into a basin of cool water.

"You couldn't have healed me that fast, even if you were the best doctor in all of London. How did you do it?" Tom asked, his face passive but voice high in demand.

"Have you ever heard of magic, Tom?"

The attractive boy stared at him perplexed before frowning, "Did you escape from some sort of mental asylum?"

Laughing, Harry gently laid the wet cloth on Tom's heated skin.

"No, although I wouldn't be surprised if muggles put me in one." He replied.

"Muggles?"

"Non-magical folk. Those you've lived with in the orphanage are muggles."

"Muggles." Tom murmured, feeling suddenly elated, "Yes, I like that word, Muggles… it's suits them very well."

It took every ounce of Harry's strong will not to roll his eyes.

"So I take it that you believe me?"

"Of course I believe you because I..." Tom suddenly stopped and glared at him, "Prove it," he demanded, so like the eleven-year old he saw in Dumbledore's memory.

Harry waved his hand in the empty air and cast a simple transfiguration charm. Vibrant, colourful bubbles popped out of mid-air and floated before disappearing in a pop.

"Is that all?" he asked drily, looking unimpressed.

"You're so hard to please, aren't you?" Harry teased. With a simple flick of his wrist, Harry conjured fire and warped it into a fiery phoenix. Tom watched the phoenix in awe, the large swan-sized scarlet bird with red and gold plumage flew across and around the small room before vanishing.

"Alright," Tom said, "I guess I believe you."

Happy by Tom's change of moods, Harry explained to him the differences between the magical community and the muggles. Tom devoured the information but didn't ask a single question, from time to time his eyes drooped from wariness.

"When you're eleven, you will be accepted into Hogwarts." Harry told him finally.

Riddle lay comfortably in his bed, closing his eyes. Realizing how tired he must be, Harry pulled the blankets up to the boy's chest and wondered whether he should kiss him good night but abruptly decided against it. He sat in his chair, watching the boy for a long period of time before Tom opened one eyes and asked,

"How long are you going to stare at me for?"

"Until you fall asleep," Harry replied, stroking the soft, dark hair that rested so smoothly on the boys head unlike Harry's own unruly mess. He expected Tom to snap at him but was happily surprised to find him accepting his touch and drowse off into a deep slumber.

Harry rose up from his sitting area and left the resting child alone with his dreams. He leaned against the old stoned walls of his new home, shivering at the cold touch of a cottage that had endured hundreds of frozen winters. The weather-beaten slat cottage with it's crumbling rock walls strongly reminded Harry of Bill's and Fleur's shell cottage, it bore all the comforts of a lonely and beautiful place.

His new home was located in the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole and on the shores of the Galitc Sea, a good hour ride from the nearest muggle village. The cottage was nicknamed Sea Lavender cottage because of the large clusters of intense purple sea lavenders that blossomed around the cottage, drowning each green patch in vivid violet.

In Harry's mind, he had found the perfect home and a safe haven from prying eyes. At one point, he was worried that Tom may not like it but honestly, anything must be better than that dingy orphanage.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Harry began to stress how he was going to pay for the cottage's rent money and Tom's necessities. He wanted to makes his childhood one of satisfaction and happiness, not of worry and stress. Sighing, Harry sat by the gilded window, contemplating his next steps to a settled life.

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Every pore, every cell felt like an ember, smothering him like a thick blanket. Even his sweat felt like it was blisteringly hot, and he groaned, turning his head and trying to escape the moisture creeping down his face.

"You're awake, I see."

Memories of last night flooded back and Tom turned red when he remembered himself sobbing like a pathetic child against Harry's chest.

_'God, how he hated feeling weak.'_

"I've made you breakfast," Harry said cheerfully, presenting him a plateful of sweet pancakes soaked in maple syrup and topped with strawberries and whip cream.

Tom's mouth almost drooled at the smell and sight. Never in Wool's orphanage had he ever ate delicious food.

 _'I guess he's useful after all.'_ Tom thought, as he dug into his breakfast with proper etiquette, cutting and digging into his meal with care.

Just the night before, Tom had learned of the magical community and he was already preparing to study all he could about this so called, "Wizarding World." A wizard as his guardian would help him achieve that and would prove rather convenient and useful when upgrading his magic skills.

"I'm glad you like it," his new guardian said cheerfully. Tom stared blankly at Harry and wondered silently how someone could even feel so much idiotic delight over a child enjoying a single meal.

"So tell me, how are you feeling?" Harry asked, "Are you up to visiting Diagon Alley?"

Tom Riddle did not bother to respond, he remained quiet and stared wordlessly at Harry.

Harry took a deep breath before continuing, "Diagon Alley is a shopping area for the Wizarding world. You don't have any clothes so I thought it would be necessary to buy some."

An foreign sensation of high spirits welled up inside Tom and made him feel strangely giddy. No one had ever taken him shopping, never even for clothes. He was always just given badly stitched fabrics combined in a tunic or old, greying clothes with wide, gaping holes passed from one orphan to the other.

Tom didn't need to respond, as Harry focused his attention to tidying his dirty dishes. He pulled out some sort of stick and with a silent wave, the dishes vanished in thin air.

"What is that?" Tom blurted, not caring how childish he must've sounded.

"It's a wand," he explained, "It helps the wizard perform magic better and cast strong spells."

"Can I get one in Diagon Alley?" Tom said, his obsidian eyes gleaming in hungry desire.

"Yes but only when you're older. It's customary to get a wand on a Witches or Wizard's 11th birthday."

"That sounds like a foolish custom," Tom scoffed.

Harry smiled, "It's not as foolish as it sounds. Using a wand at a young age such as yours could weaken the magical core."

His dark, onyx eyes lit up with the new-found information, brooding on the context of the magical core. Tom pulled his legs off of the bed and when he stood, sudden nausea and dizziness overtook him, clouding his judgement and weakening his legs into jelly. As he stumbled, Tom expected to be greeted by a hard, painful floor but instead warm, soft hands grabbed him steady.

"Maybe we should stay home today and rest. You still don't look well."

"I'm fine," Tom said, "Just give me more of that drink from before."

"I have some replenishing potion instead. I think that would suit you better because it is a useful remedy for headaches."

"Whatever." The orphan muttered harshly, unaccustomed to having a parental figure care for him.

Tom drank the thick, purple substance that was handed to him and was relieved to find the dull hammering in his head slowly fade away. When Harry left his room Tom got up and dressed, grimacing at the ghastly sight of him in the tall mirror. His body was thin and the dreary, grey garments draped off his body like elephant skin.

Scowling at his pathetic appearance, he quickly slipped on his boots that were riddled with holes. Tom left his room and shivered at the aura of comfort that radiated throughout his new home.

It was bright and warm, the very opposite of Wool's orphanage gloomy and depressed atmosphere. Harry's home was one floored, carpeted and undeniably cozy. The flat stoned walls were adorned with woven tapestries and couch was cheap made with leather but disguised in patchwork quilts. To the far left, stood an pair of embroidered chairs, a low rosewood coffee table, glass fronted bookcase, and a solid oak desk overlooking an open ocean.

"Do you like it?" He asked.

"It's… not bad." Tom responded cooly while surveying the empty bookcase.

"You don't have any books?" Riddle asked, slightly annoyed.

"No, but we can go buy some at Diagon Alley. I know a few good book stores."

Tom nodded curtly, deciding that would have to do.

"Before we leave, something needs to be done with that." Harry said pointing at his worn-out boots that were beginning to fall apart.

The orphan scowled, "You don't need to mock me!"

"I'm not!" Harry defended himself, raising his hands in dismay. "I just want to fix them."

His guardian pointed his wand at the shoes and muttered a spell. In a snap, the holes were sewn back together by an invisible force.

"Hmm, not bad. I'm planning to buy you a new pair anyways so just bear with them for today."

Tom peered at his shoes, "I want a book that teaches spells like that!" He demanded, fixing him with a stern gaze as if daring a challenge.

To Tom's utter puzzlement, Harry beamed, "A book on charms? Certainly."

Making things even more confusing, the green-eyed man grabbed him by the hand.

"Why are you holding my hand?" he glowered, fidgeting uncomfortably at his touch.

"Don't worry, it will only be for just a moment. We're travelling by apparition but after that, you can let go of my hand."

"What's apparition?"

Harry smiled, "You'll see."

Suddenly, a strong, powerful force suck him in like a tunnel and next thing Tom knew, everything was black with a few shifting images of scenery here and there. There were iron brands tightening around his chest, causing Tom to lose breath and his eyes felt like they would pop out of his sockets.

In a rapid movement, Tom found himself in the middle of a bustling shopping alley. A sick, ghastly feeling bubbled in his belly.

"I feel sick…" he complained, his hand clenched into a fist.

"I felt like that too my first time." Harry said, a nostalgic expression on his face and with one hand reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a wrapped candy.

"Here, this will help get rid of the nausea. It's cherry-flavoured."

Tom grabbed the candy and without an utter of thank you, popped it into his mouth. After the queasiness faded away, Tom observed his surroundings of colourful, glittering window displays of spell books, potion ingredients, wizardry clothing attires and cauldrons. The streets were crowded with flamboyantly dressed witches and wizards who travelled in packs, laughing obscenely with one another.

"It's so bright," Tom stated, unintentionally scowling.

"Mmm, that's Diagon Alley for you," he laughed, grabbing ahold of Tom's small hand.

"Hold on to my hand or you'll get lost."

Tom opened his mouth to protest but found himself unable to articulate any words. Holding Harry's hand wasn't so bad as he originally thought, it was a bit sedating from the overwhelming crowds and so Tom tightened his grip.

Harry led him down the busy alley, maneuvering himself easily through the obstacles of the bustling and cramped traffic of human bodies. He led him in front of a tiny red-bricked building, fastened with a wooden door and above the door a huge sign read, "Pettichaps, Shirts for Squirts."

"Shirts for squirts… I don't want to shop at such an funny-sounding place," Tom complained.

"Oh, no need to be so negative, Tom! We haven't even been inside yet."

"I don't need to go inside to decide I don't like it," he fumed, eyeing the children's clothing store that was sandwiched between Twinkle's Telescopes and Flourish and Blotts, his face portraying complete and utter revulsion.

"Haven't you heard of the phrase, 'Don't judge a book by it's cover'?"

Tom rolled his eyes and allowed himself to be led inside the small store. Numerous racks draped with colourful assortments of robes, both large and small, were cramped closely together. Tall wizard hats with small designs of stars, bubbles, lightning and woven feathers hung from the wall.

From behind the racks, a round, plump witch draped in yellow mustard robes approached them, sporting a wide and beaming smile.

"Come here, Twiddle! Twiddle!" The witch called, waving her hand frantically. A loud crack was heard and a skinny house elf dressed in the typical pillow case attire appeared, instantly bowing low.

"Master!" the elf squeaked, "Master, we have customers!"

"Now, now Twiddle. You know the routine, get me some measuring tape and pins."

The plump blonde haired witch turned to Harry, a slight twinge of red appearing on her portly cheeks.

"My, aren't you a looker!" She teased, giggling.

Tom quickly grew a deep dislike for the woman, even though she wasn't wrong. His new guardian was breathtakingly good-looking with those startling green eyes and disheveled cocoa-coloured hair.

Harry merely smiled at the woman and offered back a few pleasantries that made the woman giggle even more profusely.

"I would like to get a whole new wardrobe for my son, Tom," Harry said, placing a comforting hand on Tom's shoulder.

Tom bit his tongue from snapping at him and saying that he wasn't his son.

"Well, I must say, he's taken a lot after his father in the looks department," the shopkeeper chuckled.

She reached over to pinch his cheek and Tom instinctively slapped her hand away, edging closer to Harry.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized, resting his hand on Tom's shoulder, "He's awfully shy around strangers."

"Oh, no biggie," she reassured, though her tone betrayed a hint of irritation.

Tom was placed a top a stool and was quickly measured by the ugly creature called a house elf while the plump woman continued flirting with Harry. After a few torturous minutes of being hustled by both the elf and the shopkeeper, Tom chose a few dark shaded dress robes, all made of highly expensive material. The plump woman wrapped the newly bought buttoned-up white shirts, two travelling cloaks, one navy blue and the other dark brown, a couple of silky undergarments and a few finely-made trousers.

Overall, five boxes of his newly bought clothing were stacked together and Tom stared at his belongings in awe, unable to comprehend that they now belonged to him.

"How are we supposed to carry all of that?" Tom questioned, eyeing the heavily wrapped boxes of clothing.

"With this," Harry said simply, pulling out a small black sack.

"That's not going to fit…" he began until Harry swiftly used his wand to place all boxes into the sack as if they were hand-sized objects.

"I've enchanted the bag so it could fit many things."

"How convenient," Tom said drily, ignoring the mustard-clad woman as he marched out of her ridiculously named clothing store with Harry trailing close behind him.

"Please come by again soon," she squealed, grabbing Harry's arm in a death grip. He nodded politely and bid her farewell.

Feeling extremely irritated, Tom snatched ahold of Harry's hand possessively and hastily dragged him away.

"You promised to buy me books," he told him bossily, "Don't break your promise."

"I won't," Harry promised him, "But you're going in the wrong direction, Tom. There's a book store besides Pettichaps."

Tom flushed and angrily released Harry's hand, crossing his arms around his chest.

"Where?"

Harry steered him in the other direction and waved his hand at a large book store, titled Flourish and Blotts Bookseller. Tom pointedly ignored Harry and entered the store. The moment he stepped inside, Tom lost his breath at the sight of so many variety types of books, with shelves that reached the very top of the roof.

"You can choose five books, Tom."

Tom nodded, his sour mood long gone as he shuffled through the book store, eyeing every book with the gleam of an hungry thirst for knowledge. In the end, Tom chose Trials of Transfiguration, Britain Hidden Magical Community, Curses and Counter-Curses, Chadwick's Charm and a book on defensive magic.

Harry peered at his books and smirked, "These are all academic."

Tom scowled, "So?"

The brown-haired man shook his head, "Nothing, I'm just happy that you're interested in learning. You're very smart, Tom."

Tom felt slightly overwhelmed by the compliment but quickly shook it off. Harry paid for his books and strode out of the bookstore, his emerald eyes glistening even more than usual.

"What?" Tom snapped bitterly when he caught those beautiful green eyes gazing down at him.

"Nothing, I was just thinking of getting some candy at a sweet shop."

The very word "sweet", reminded Tom of a particular old lady who often visited the orphanage with bags of candy to distribute to the children. Tom, who was by far the most handsome boy in the orphanage, quickly caught her eye and on every visit, she took note to give him extra candies, not caring if the other children saw. Of course, this small act of kindness only bred jealousy among the poor orphans and made him a perfect target. Tom was only four and had already held strong contempt towards the old hag for being such a fool.

Tom stared unblinkingly at Harry and knew that he could never view this man with strong hatred. Harry, his guardian, was special and different. He was nothing like those idiotic adults from the orphanage.

"We're here," Harry told him, walking into a lively store that hit him with a strong smell of sugar, fruit and chocolate.

The counters surrounding them were a riot of vibrant shade. Harry grabbed a basket and started shoving numerous types of strange candies Tom had never seen into the open basket.

In the end, Harry had purchased basketful of chocolate frogs, cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties, liquors wands, sugar quills, gnome fruit jellies, and sour candies.

"Let's go home," Tom yawned, tugging on Harry's sleeve after they left Sugarplums Candy store.

"Yes, lets." Harry agreed.

The minute they got home, Tom rushed to his room, leaving a befuddled Harry at the door-way. When Tom got to his small room, he laid out all his newly acquired goods on the bed, stroking every single book and clothing, feeling giddy that all this belonged to him.

With great care and detail, Tom organized all his new belongings into his wardrobe, admiring the sleek, refined robes that hung smoothly off the hangers. The unread books he set aside on the oak desk table for future reading. All in all, Tom was greatly satisfied with the today's following events. Even his room, despite the small size, was well-furnished with a double-sized canopy bed and a tall, empty bookshelf that Tom planned to fill very soon with magical books of all kind.

"Tom!" Harry called, "I've boiled some tea, come and try some of these cauldron cakes."

Tom didn't reply and stood still as mouse, testing Harry's reaction.

"Fine, I'll just eat it all myself."

The young boy pulled a face and strode out of his room, to greet a triumphant Harry.

Yes, I can get used to this, Tom decided when he stared into those passionate, churning green eyes, the shade of deep forest pools and springtime greenery.

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	4. A Curse Breaker's Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mainly focused on Harry's new job because I want to give a good backround of what Harry will be dealing with! I hope you all enjoy it!

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The time-travelling Wizard sat calmly by the window, drinking a cup of hot coffee and watching the dark, heavy clouds thicken in the sky. Sea waves rose high in the air, angry, turbulent and unforgiving. From behind, Harry heard foot steps and a pause, immediately knowing it was young Tom.

"Good Morning," Harry greeted, "I've made some hot cocoa."

Tom nodded, shifting nervously on his feet before muttering back a hasty greeting.

"There's going to be a storm," Tom stated, sitting in his chair and reaching for a piece of buttered toast.

He nodded, "Yeah, it's supposed to worsen tonight but I should be back by then, so don't worry."

"I'm not worried," the tired boy voiced, munching elegantly on a piece of bacon, a feat Harry would have rendered impossible until today.

"Tell me about your job again," Tom inquired, a curious excitement etched on his features.

"I'm a curse-breaker and it's like an archeologist for muggles. My main priority is to disable curses on ancient tombs or other historical sites and bring back as much gold to Gringott's bank."

"I've read that the bank is run by goblins. Is that true?"

Harry smiled, pleased at his new-found knowledge, "Yes, you're right."

"That doesn't make sense! Why do goblins take charge of Wizard money? It's almost embarrassing to think that Witches and Wizards don't even have full-control of their own economy." Tom criticized, his obsidian eyes flashing in revolting outrage.

"Now that's a question many wizards and witches have been asking for centuries." Harry chuckled, "But there is one thing you must never forget, don't ever underestimate Goblins. For hundreds of years, magic folk have always viewed them as inferior but they really are very clever, not too mention extremely prideful."

"But they must be inferior!" Tom protested, "Their magic can't rival ours, can it?"

Harry shrugged, "Goblins conceal the secrets of their own magic from wizards so I do not know for certain."

"Their magic is probably useless anyways."

 _'The prejudice is just as strong as his older self.'_ Harry noticed, furrowing his eyebrows.

Voldemort also held such a strong view of wizard superiority that he failed to acknowledge an house elves strong apparition magic which caused his Horcrux to be stolen by Regulus Black. Thinking back about his past with Voldemort made Harry feel unbearably hot, especially since Voldemort's younger self was sitting right across the table.

He quickly jumped up onto his feet, instantly surprising Tom who almost choked on his scrambled eggs.

"It's time for me to go," Harry said hurriedly, "I've cast a few warming charms so it won't get cold when I'm gone. There's hot macaroni in the pot if you get hungry."

"What time will you be back again?" Tom asked nonchalantly, his dark eyes downcast.

Harry blinked confusedly at Tom. Tom wasn't frightened of being alone, was he?

 _'I'm probably just imagining things.'_ Harry convinced himself.

"Around 6pm tonight."

With one hand raised in farewell, Harry apparated himself out of the cottage and appeared in front of the colossal-sized Gringott's bank. Harry walked up the set of white stairs leading up to a set of burnished bronze doors, he was stopped by goblin guards dressed in a uniform of gold and scarlet and was allowed to pass into the employee-only jurisdiction after the uniformed goblins checked his identification.

Harry walked past the numerous of busy goblins dressed in fine, business-like suits. Bill Weasley, a curse-breaker from his other time, had told him that curse-breakers generally don't have uniforms. The Goblins running Gringott's do not care what the Curse-Breakers look like in terms of appearance or dress, as long as they bring treasure back to the bank.

He stepped into broad office area, the floors and walls were made out of dark marble and plenty of wooden desks were scattered around the office, covered paperwork and books of disabling and offensive curses. Curse-breakers of all age sat working diligently, muttering quietly to themselves in deep concentration. If Harry hadn't known this was the curse-breaker's office, he would have guessed it was a Ministry of Magic department.

"Ah, so here's the newbie!" a booming voice called from behind him. Harry turned only to find himself pulled into a hearty embrace.

"We've been waiting all day for you, laddie," a tall, robust wizard exclaimed with a crown of bushy grey hair and a long sharp nose.

"Er, thank you?" Harry said uncertainly.

"You're in my squadron, so be sure to behave or you'll have the trolls in the deep dungeons to answer for," he warned crossly although a playful smile stretched across his face.

"Oh quit frightening him, Brax," an attractive, parisian-looking woman exclaimed, approaching them both, her hips swayed seductively each step she took.

"Romanda Dieu, it's a pleasure," the blonde woman purred, her pale blues eyes fixating on his green ones before running her gaze down his body appreciatively.

"The pleasure is mine, madame Dieu," he responded cooly, meeting her small pale hand to his lips.

"Oh my," she gasped lightly, laughing giddily, "Guessing from your manners, this one must come from an highly-established pureblood family!"

Harry laughed with her, shaking his head, "I'm afraid you're mistaken, madame Dieu. I'm merely a half-blood who is well-acquainted with pureblood customs."

All great thanks to Draco Malfoy drilling his head with Pureblood formality after he became head of the Potter and Black family house. Oh, and of course after they had rekindled their long-lasting, pointless feud.

"That's a pity," the platinum blonde woman sighed, "Although I must say, I have never come across a half-blood who is so well-versed in our pureblood ways."

"Then today my Lady Dieu, you are in for a surprise." Harry declared, throwing in a alluring wink.

"Alright you two, quit the fancy prancey talk!" Brax interjected, throwing his hands up in annoyance.

"Come along, Harry. We have a lot of newbie information to discuss," the shaggy, grey haired wizard spoke, sweeping his hand in the air to follow him.

Harry bowed formally to Romanda Dieu who nodded back admirably. In a swift motion, Harry rushed over to his new squadron leader and walked alongside him.

"Let's start off by saying that Goblins are a nasty bunch."

"So agrees with you every witch and wizard in the magical community," Harry said dryly.

"And damn hell they're right! Any mistake on your part and those gnarly hands of theirs will be all over it. If you accidentally damage tombs, treasures, temples or any other blasted artifacts during a mission because of a wayward curse or any other bloody spells those ancient wizards set up, you'll be sitting for hours in a desk filling out head-exploding paperwork that will take all night to complete!" Brax grumbled.

"I understand, sir." Harry responded gently.

"Hah, no you don't, newbie."

 _'I was once the head of an Auror Office at the age of twenty-six before becoming Head of the Magical Law Enforcement. So yes, I do know what it's like to fill-out paperwork!'_ Harry so badly wanted to say but kept his mouth shut.

'Y _ou're a recent Hogwarts graduate named Harry Gaunt,'_ He told himself, ' _Not Harry Potter.'_

"We work all over the world," Brax continued, "When ever those gold-hungry creatures hear news of some ancient underground shrine that is suspected of holding gold, they sends us over in large numbers like a pack of dogs."

"Are we going anywhere today?" Harry asked, relatively curious.

"Yes, to the east coast of Ireland. They've found some cave near the shores, the goblins think there is some sort of hidden treasure but I think they're brains are full of mush from counting coins all day and night."

"Brax," someone suddenly called, "I hear we're scheduled to go to Ireland today!"

Harry immediately recognized the lithe man's face but couldn't exactly remember from where. The young man was handsome with chiselled features, light brown hair and bright grey eyes. He appeared so eerily familiar and it was thanks to Brax who called the man's name which answered Harry's nagging nostalgia.

"Diggory, it's so good to see you!" Brax said cheerfully, pulling the man into a hug.

Watching the heart-warming interaction, Harry took note that Brax was awfully kind and welcoming to Wizards but treated Goblins the opposite, with distaste and dislike.

"Reitch Diggory, nice to meet you!" the Curse-Breaker greeted, smiling readily.

Harry nodded, responding back in the same kind tone. He was always fond of Cedric Diggory and Reitch reminded him strongly of Cedric.

"The cave in Ireland is described as some sort of burial site, am I right, Brax?"

"Aye, those creatures think that there is gold but I say there will be nothing, just like that last time we dug up a hole only to find a pit of muggle skeletons who were buried alive as witches."

Diggory inclined his head and made a face, "Oh is that what they were? I thought it was some sort of sacrificial ceremony."

"Honestly, I don't give two knuts on whatever nonsense those muggles had gotten up to, not in the past and definitely not now. I just see no point on going on some pointless mission when I know first hand that we're not going to find anything." The elder wizard grumbled, rubbing his forehead anxiously.

"Don't be like that," Reitch comforted, so-ever the perfect Hufflepuff. "We're all getting paid anyways."

Brax snorted, "I'd rather have a pay raise. The more gold you return, the more galleons is raised each week, you know how cheeseparing those goblins are. I'll take on Romanda's mission any day, they're heading to Romania to investigate an presumed Dracula's tomb."

"Romanda? As in Romanda Dieu?" Harry interrupted, recalling the bombshell blonde from before.

Reitch Diggory faced Harry, a cheerful gleam lit in his eyes, "The very same. Brax here and Mrs. Dieu are both leaders in their squadrons and awfully competitive."

Their squadron leader huffed his chest, "I'm a far seasoned curse-breaker than her, I'll have you know."

"Of course you are!" Diggory agreed loyally, while patting him on the shoulder

 _'Yes, so ever the perfect embodiment of a Hufflepuff.'_ Harry decided, making him feel right at ease.

"Alright you two, come along! We have lots of work to do."

Both Harry and Reitch obeyed, following him back to a cramped room where a group and witches and wizards sat, all idly chatting with one another. When they caught sight of Brax, all eyes lit with anxious eagerness.

"Where we going?" An Wizard with long, shoulder-length brown hair asked.

"A cave in Ireland," Brax said boredly.

The room exploded with excited talk, each one of them bursting with talk of discovering new and powerful ancient treasures.

"Now, don't get excited," the leader scowled, "The only treasure we'll find is a skull with a golden tooth."

Irritated complaints of goblins giving them all pointless work filled the room, making Harry feel utterly irked by their constant yapping. He wasn't used to this chatty behaviour for a long time. To be more specific, not since his retirement from the Magical Law Enforcement.

"Alright shut up, the lot of you," Brax roared, instantly quietening the room.

"Evelyn and Retina, you two stay behind and deal with the menacing paperwork."

The two red-haired, freckled witches nodded, raising up from their seats to gather up desk work.

"Aronna and Krill, you both are to gather the appropriate spell books and when you're done, meet us at the location."

A tall, beefy man and his partner acknowledged his request and shuffled over to the messy bookshelf that would've made Hermione frown at the awful treatment the books had endured.

"Harriet, you are, like always, are our healer incase one of us gets our head lobbed off or manage to grow an extra one."

A short, mousy woman giggled at his jibe, "Yes sir!" she cried in a clear voice.

"And the rest of us are to use our best offensive magic to get this mission done."

Brax turned to Reitch Diggory and pointed at Harry, "Take care of the newbie, will you?"

"Most certainly," Reitch replied.

"Everyone, stop dabbling around and let us get to this blasted site."

Everyone was given a rusty can that ended up being a port key.

"Hope none of you get portkey sick!" Brax cackled, as he disappeared through portkey transportation.

"Funny guy, isn't he?" Reitch laughed, reaching to grasp the can before vanishing.

"How original..." Harry said sarcastically, staring wearingly at the rusty can portkey and grabbing ahold of it. The familiar sucking sensation pulled Harry roughly through a dark tunnel, blackness flooding his vision whilst pulling his paralyzed body left and right, causing an unpleasant nausea.

A soft hand grabbed his forearm as Harry stumbled, lost in the feeling of giddiness.

"You alright there, Harry?" A beaming smile of Diggory's met his sulking face.

"Yeah, I'm just not used to portkey travel. I prefer to use apparition." Harry answered, brushing dirt smudges off his robes.

"You can apparate?" Reitch questioned, impressed, "I always found apparition similar to portkey travel."

"It make me less nauseous because I can control my movements and my mind is more focused." Harry explained.

"Hmmm," the handsome Reitch Diggory frowned, looking thoughtful, "I remember during lessons in apparition, both my legs were accidentally splinched off and when I looked down, all remained of me was more torso before I fainted. The experience was so awful, I never went back for more lessons."

Harry chuckled alongside him before a ringing, thunderous voice interjected their merriment.

"Come along, you two! We have work to get to!" bellowed a raffled-looking man, his face twisted in vexation.

The two quickly leaped to their work stances, chasing after the frustrated man who walked in long strides.

"Don't mind him," Reitch whispered to Harry, "He's always cranky at around the end of the month. Some sort of sickness."

Harry froze, his thoughts jumping straight to Remus Lupin. Could he perhaps be...? Judging by the red-rimmed eyes, haggard appearance and paleness, it was very well possible the man was a werewolf.

But Harry didn't pay much attention to it, werewolves in human-form were not a danger even though the prejudice against them remained strong throughout Wizarding society.

Instead of centring his focus on the the sickly werewolf wizard, Harry eyed the open cave, a mouth of impenetrable blackness that was surrounded by sharp, jagged rocks. Stormy clouds begin to roll in, blocking the bright sun. Brax, their squadron leader viewed the impending stormy weather in choler.

"Yes, send us on the day of a storm, why don't you?" he grumbled, as sea spit fell upon his wrinkled face, "Filthy, money-mongering creatures."

"Oooo, I love a good storm!" A petite witch giggled, her red-hair pulled into stiff pigtails.

"Not everyone likes the idea of being fish food," retorted back a tall, scrawny wizard.

"Enough with the chit chat!" Brax snapped, quickly reverting to a bossy, commander tone.

"Wands out, prepare your defensive spells and remember, always have your portkey's close at hand."

Harry pocketed the rusty old can instead. If he was ever in danger, he would resort to apparition.

Brax took lead with another grizzled, Curse-Breaker veteran. Both of them waved their wands, casting spells to deactivate wards placed upon the cave.

"Not a single ward or any other kind of defensive magic. What sort of hopeless Wizard's were these? Half-squibs, I might say." The elder wizard alongside Brax complained, his thick, bushy eyebrows crinkled around the scar that run down his wrinkled face.

"Everyone from the medieval times were pisspot at magic in my opinion," Brax declared.

Jac guffawed, "Open up a book for once, Brax. Britain has been blessed with many intelligent and talented medieval wizards and witches."

Brax grinned from ear to ear, "I'll read a book on history when the statute of secrecy falls."

The pair continued conversing as they strolled into the mouth of the cave, both enfolded in chilling blackness while the rest of the curse-breakers followed closely by, wands raised in Lumos. Underfoot the loose stones shifted, water drips echoed off the dense stone walls and Harry felt his body heat cool significantly.

"Don't be nervous," Reitch told him suddenly, "We've all faced worse."

'I've faced worse than all of you combined.' Harry thought, wondering why Diggory assumed him to be nervous.

As the Gringott's cuse-breakers explored further into the cave, they came across large pools of puddles murky green with thriving algae. The darkness seemed to be an eternity as they walked, beams of bright light rays from their wands were not enough to cast the tunnel in full light.

Harry lifted his head and goggled at the jagged teeth of stone that descended down like a fanged-monster from the shadows above. There was something mysteriously beautiful about the cave.

"Whoa, check this out boss!" hollered the pig-tailed witch, her high voice shrill in exhilaration.

Everyone approached the girl who stood above a skeletal corpse, loose mouldy scraps of fabric hanging from it's bones.

"It's look pretty ancient," said Jac, who knelt down to observe the remains more closely.

"Let's continue further on," The leader Brax ordered, gesturing the preoccupied curse-breakers to continue on their journey.

The curse-breakers with their robes drenched in muddy cave water followed him obediently while Harry lagged a bit behind.

He knelt to his knees and swept his wand across the decomposing human skeleton, contemplating the odd-look of the carcass.

"I've seen this before," Harry murmured to himself, though unable to recall where.

It was most definitely human but the way it had decayed over the many years was strange and unnatural. Remnants of dry, mummified skin still clung to it's bones. In usual circumstances, the skeleton would have rotted fully and only bones would have remained but for some reason, the carcass was still coated in skin.

"Where have I seen this before..." he contemplated, biting his lip irritably.

Quickly realizing that someone may take notice of his disappearance, Harry rushed over to the group but not before casting a silencing charm to hide the noise of his running footsteps.

Sooner than expected, the group hit a dead end of a cave wall camouflaged in thick noir ivy, a special breed of plant breed that didn't need sunlight to survive.

"Is this it?" moaned a lanky wizard with straw-like hair slicked back.

"That seems to be the case." Diggory told him, inspecting the draped noir ivy.

"What a bunch of bollocks..." said the tall wizard, shoving away a single strand of blonde hair that came loose from the greased hair.

"You're standing on it, Eddie." Brax sniffed, fingering the flat slab of stone beneath Eddie's feet, the wizard skipped back in alarm and yelped a sound of surprise.

The wizard's and single witch quickly set to work, levitating the slab of stone off the ground.

"It's a human body." Reitch Diggory asked aloud, leaning over to view inside the empty hole.

Harry observed beside him and stared alarmingly at the pale and gaunt creature, laying dead stiff in it's coffin. It's heavy-lidded eyelids twitched at the scent of fresh humans and Harry acted immediately, casting a strong spell to drag Diggory away from the creature.

"That's not human," Harry cried out, "It's a Vampire."

The reaction of the curse-breakers were rapid, wands were retrieved and pointed sharply at the ash-white vampire who was not yet fully awake from it's slumber.

"That explains the skeleton from earlier," Brax muttered suddenly, "It was drained of blood so that is why it didn't properly decompose."

"What are we to do? This is not our employment of work." Jac said worriedly.

"Call the Aurors and lets get out of here!" Brax ordered, brandishing his wand and casting protective charms over his squadron.

"That explains the lack of magic when we got here. Vampire's can't do magic." The old, scarred curse-breaker said.

The group hurried through the tunnels until they could see the light from the exit of the cave, a truly welcoming sight after standing in the pitch black for hours.

Harry was one of first to apparate at the sight of harsh sea waves, clashing against the walls of the cave like a tsunami. In seconds, he found himself in familiar Gringott's surroundings and for the first time, Harry was happy to be there.

"What's going on?" snapped Mr. Rangrok, the head-goblin of curse breaker's employees. The goblin stared disgustedly at the Wizards with their wet-drenching robes that created puddles in the banks marble tiles.

"A change of plans. We must call the Aurors."

"Gringott's is not under the ministry of magic's authority, we are our own private establishment created centuries ago b-..." Mr. Rangrok began before being crudely interrupted.

"There's a vampire in that cave you send us to, Mr. Rangrok. If you and your goblins believe you can overpower a blood thirsty vampire, then by all means, do as you please." Brax flared up, staring heatedly in the goblins black eyes.

There was silence for a few minutes before being broken by the goblin, who stared daggers at Brax.

"I'll contact the Auror office myself!" the goblin snarled, silently muttering under his breath of incompetent, good-for-nothing wizards.

Harry and the rest of the curse-breakers headed back to the employee section of the bank.

He felt a grasp on his shoulder and turned to find himself staring in the grey eyes of Reitch Diggory.

"I want to say thank you for helping me back there... if it wasn't for you, I would be in St. Mungo's right now with punctured teeth marks on my neck."

Harry shrugged, "Anyone would have done the same."

Diggory nodded, beaming, "Still, I'm very grateful."

The two headed straight to the curse breaker office, both assembling around a work table and gathering a collection of documents and records of curse-breaker field work.

"These are all collections, field notes, maps and diagrams of undiscovered tombs, treasures or other antiques. We are to go through them and try to find some hidden clues for future expeditions." Reitch explained expertly, waving his hand over the stacks of paper.

Harry nodded in understanding, shuffling over yellow, crumbled parchment, torn scrolls, stained note pads and scribbled letters.

'Today is going to be a long day,' Harry thought tiredly, gazing out the window and at the rain that bore down mercilessly at the heart of Diagon Alley.

.

He finished the day at Gringott's a bit later than usual. Harry shut his eyes as he stepped out of Gringott's, the storm had picked up since he left this morning and was now a full-blown hurricane. Harry apparated back to the sea lavender cottage and grimaced at the sight of the sea storm, it's splashes of water smashed upon his face like pebbles of rocks.

Harry's hair whipped so violently about his face to the point where could barely see at all. The trees creaked, screaming as their limbs strained against the onslaught. Harry took large steps and scrambled for the front door. It was wide-open and banged against the wall in chaotic booms.

The cottage was dark and empty and Tom was no where in sight.

"Tom!" he called desperately, shivering from the cold. The warming charms must've worn-out ages ago.

He ran into the boy's room and stared befuddled at the shivering figure that lay huddled under mounds of thick blankets, cacooned like a squirrel in the winter.

"Tom..." he said gently, reaching to touch the orphan only to have his hand slapped away.

"Where were you?" Tom snarled, hiding his face in his pillow, "You're an hour late!"

Harry tensed at the fury of his words, steadily responding back,

"There was trouble today at work but it's all been dealt with."

The boy remained silent, frozen still in his bed.

"I hate you!" the boy growled furiously into his pillow, "You left me on purpose and I hate you!"

"Tom, I would never leave you on purpose." He replied delicately, "Look at me."

Tom refused to budge, his face buried deeply in his white pillow.

"I hate you," he repeated, "You lied to me and left me all alone on purpose!"

Harry shook his head, a painful jab piercing his heart. He felt like a complete failure.

"I thought you were different but you're just like them," Tom said grudgingly, his body shaking in anger.

"You're just like the rest of them at the orphanage! You're a liar!" He screamed, his cries echoing throughout the empty house.

"Tom..." Harry murmured, tenderly. "Tom, please look at me."

His dark head rose slowly before snapping at him like a viper, his face streaked in tears and red-rimmed eyes glaring fiercely at Harry's emerald ones. Tom's pitiful appearance drove a wedge in Harry's gut and he couldn't stop himself from pulling him into his arms.

"I'm sorry, Tom." Harry whispered, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me, I'm not a weak." Tom protested, his small frame was stiff as a board but he didn't make a move to push Harry away like he expected.

"Yes, you're the strongest boy I know." Harry agreed, stroking the boy's bony spine.

Brick by brick, Tom's resolute walls broke down. He let his body sag and muscles come loose. Harry continued to cradle him like a cherished child, stroking that smooth black hair and enfolding him in his warm embrace.

"Don't leave me again," Tom commanded, though it came out more like a plea.

Harry wrapped his arms tightly around Tom's lithe waist, feeling him willingly settle like a jig-saw puzzle onto his chest.

"You know I can't do that," Harry explained, hating his words, "I need to work to support the both of us."

Tom's breathing slowed, his hot breath tingling Harry's skin. The orphan didn't respond, instead planting his jaw painfully hard on the crook of Harry's neck.

"But I promise you won't feel like this again. I will make things better tomorrow. I promise."

The child shifted his body closer to Harry, long and pale fingers gripping Harry's robes in a vicelike grip.

"Don't break your promise." Tom hissed into his ear.

Harry broke out in a huge grin, glad that Tom couldn't see his gleeful reaction. The boy thought he was being stern and intimidating but was actually just too adorable.

Taking advantage of Tom's lucid behaviour, Harry cloaked him a warm swaddle of his chest and arms.

"Lets go to bed!" he said, gently stripping his wet robes off of his body.

"What are you doing?" Tom scowled, flashing a tiny tint of red.

"It's cold outside and this is how muggles stay warm," Harry joked.

"I'm not a muggle!"

The older wizard merely grinned, "Your bed is big enough to accommodate two people, unless you don't want me here then I'll leave."

"I never said that," Tom said hastily, "I was just surprised, that's all."

Smiling at the change of attitude, Harry brushed a strand of his dark, brown hair away from his face. Tom sniffed and lay his head on Harry's chest. The boy's fingers clasped tightly on Harry's shirt, refusing to let go.

Harry thought the boy was being endearing but really, Tom was wordlessly marking Harry as his own.

.


	5. The Encounter with Nagini

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this new chapter! I've been writing endlessly and I promise, a lot more action and excitement will happen in the next few chapters. Please review, they always bring a smile to my face. Also, any next chapter recommendations are also appreciated since I suffer terribly from writers block. Feel free to write your input on what you think should happen in the future.
> 
> Thank you so much for the Kudos & Bookmarks! It's great to see how many people enjoy this work.

He awoke to the sound of small pellets of water hitting his window, tumbling down from the grey skies. Tom reached a single hand down the bed, expected to grasp Harry's shoulders but only to find emptiness and the cold.

Scowling, he kicked off the thick blankets that wrapped tight and cozy around his body.

 _'He's left me again!'_ Anger beyond any child's comprehension fumed deep within his body, coursing in his veins like a volcano eruption.

Barefoot and with hard, obsidian eyes, Tom pranced out of the bed. He shoved the wooden door open, only to be met by the stunned emerald eyes of his very own Harry.

Any thoughts of vengeance and hatred vanished with one singe glance at those verdant shade of spring. No one had ever easily calmed Tom's rage like those emeralds that were embedded so perfectly on his creamy, white skin.

"Tom!" said a surprised Harry who held his cheesy omelette breakfast in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other.

"You frightened me," he chuckled, "As you can see, I've made you breakfast."

Tom reached up and tightened his viper-like grip on Harry's wrist.

"You left me!" he accused, so like the night before but this time, there was no malice in his tone and only fatigue.

"I only left to make you breakfast," Harry defended, setting the plate and cup down.

Tom scoffed dismissively, pretending to not care as he marched back into his bed and waited for Harry to set his breakfast down.

"I thought we'd go down to Diagon Alley." Harry said, "To buy you a pet so you can have some sort of company when I'm gone."

"Like a rabbit?" Tom sniffled, remembering Billy Stubbs annoying, prancing ball of fluff. He didn't really like rabbits or any other kinds of animals for that matter.

"We can get another animal. It doesn't have to a be a rabbit."

"Why?" Tom questioned, curious.

Harry shrugged, "Why not? An animal companion will be a nice distraction while I'm gone."

Tom fixed Harry a hard gaze, his expression taut and vacant. Kindness and generosity is a language Tom was not used to. Harry's emerald eyes were filled with such affection, that seemed so genuine and endless: as big as the dark green sea outside his window.

"I guess a pet won't be so bad…" Tom said hesitantly, silently admiring the gleam that lit up in his guardian's eyes.

"That's great!" he beamed, "Finish up your breakfast and get dressed. When you're ready, I'll be waiting downstairs."

With those final words, Harry exited his room; leaving Tom alone with his brooding.

* * *

...

* * *

Harry sat in a arm chair, waiting patiently for Tom. The ocean waves outside were not as powerful as the night before, but still as violent with it's roar echoing across the land. Wind lashed harshly against the glass window, making Harry shudder.

Tom approached him from behind sneakily, his feet tip-toeing carefully on the stoned cottage floor.

"Are we still going?"

Harry nodded, examining Tom's new attire and was shocked by how incredibly different Tom appeared from the night before. The yesterday's scruffy orphan no longer existed, instead replaced by a finely-garbed child, his navy-blue cloak cascaded in graceful fold from his shoulders; fitting perfectly with the expensively tailored robe fabric.

 _'He looks like an young aristocrat,'_ Harry mused to himself,  _'Just like his father must've looked like when he was a child.'_

Harry stood upright and grasped ahold of Tom hand and vanished, the two of them travelling by apparition. The familiar sucking sensation overpowered both their senses, although this time, Tom was not as flustered as before but his pale face still showed signs of nausea.

"Are you alright?"

Tom bobbed his head, staring up at Harry with a sickly-looking expression, "I'll never get used to that," he complained.

"Oh, trust me, you will." Harry grinned.

"Aren't there other ways we can get to Diagon Alley?" Tom whined, trudging his feet grumpily on the wet cobble stones as Harry lead him down the busy, colourful Alley.

"There's the Floo Network. It's a mode of transportation using floo powder and a fireplace."

"Using a fireplace?" he repeated in disgust, "It sounds just as worse."

The time-traveller disagreed, "It's far more comfortable and there is little to no danger of serious injury. It's no wonder many witches and wizards prefer using the Floo Network."

Tom blinked at him, momentarily stunned, "Are you saying that we've been travelling the dangerous way this whole time?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded before continuing to speak, "You can get a horrible injury called splinching which means the separation of random body parts. There were once two students who tried apparation without a licence and splinched themselves, leaving half of their bodies behind."

Tom stared up at him briefly with horror before a vex irritation crossed his elegant features.

"So, I could have lost an arm or a leg this whole time?" the raven-haired boy asked brusquely.

"Don't worry," Harry reassured, "I have my license and I've been travelling by apparation for many years, without leaving behind a single strand of hair."

"You can think of me as a professional." Harry winked. The conversation died and Harry straightened his back and concentrated his focuses back to locating Magical Menagerie, the witch and wizard pet store.

Harry was completely clueless to the flash of pride that radiated through Tom's dark, ebony eyes. His guardian wasn't a typical, guileless wizard who had to rely on the typical Floo Network that other weak wizard's used. His Harry was strong and powerful, like himself one day.

Tom tightened his hand and Harry peered down confusingly at Tom, wondering if the boy was beginning to grow an attachment.

"We're here," Harry announced, pulling Tom inside the north-side shop. The pet store was very cramped and noisy, with every inch of wall covered by cages carrying all sorts of magical creatures.

Tom stared around the shop with an uninterested expression, his lip curled in displeasure at the high noise-level.

"Don't be shy and go take a look around," Harry said, pushing him gently.

"I'm not shy!" the seven-year old scoffed, stomping away to peer down at a basket of custard-coloured fur balls that were humming very loudly.

"These are puffskeins," he told Tom, admiring the soft purring coming from the tiny balls of fluff.

"I already know that!" Tom said arrogantly and with pride, "From what I've read, they're practically pointless creatures with overly large tongues."

"I think their rather cute," Harry protested, reaching a finger down and grinning as the puffskeins clambered around his hand.

"Do you really think I want a useless fur ball as a pet?" the boy said roughly, scowling at the jumping, fluffy creatures before turning his attention to a large jar filled with small green insects with transparent wings.

Tom explored the menagerie, his emotion guarded and the complete opposite from the over-excited, gleeful children who over-crowded around a cage filled with crawling baby Nifflers.

They passed poisonous snails, a giant crystal gemmed tortoise, sleek black rats, owls of various species, cawing ravens, cats of every shade, and a very angry-looking rabbit, dressed in a dark tuxedo.

"How about a cat?"

"No." Was the brisk reply.

Tom inspected every magical creature with critical assessment, restrained and expressionless. He mirrored an adult, lacking the intoxicating excitement of a child. The other children bounced, pounced, and squealed as they ran around the pet store; colourful robes flapping while bluntly ignorant of the shopkeeper's sharp look.

His new charge surveyed the shop as if it was a crypt and looked up at him boredly,

"Is this all the great wizarding world has to offer?"

"This is a pet shop, not an exhibit." Harry told him, "If you're looking for dragon, their won't be one."

Tom snorted, "I don't like animals anyways."

"Why's that?"

"Why must you always want an answer for everything?" he snapped,

Harry's lip twitched, fighting back an open grin, "I find asking questions for an answer so much easier than investigating for answers."

Tom did little to keep the creeping smirk at bay, "Well if you must know, they're all awfully tedious, a burden and a complete waste of time and energy."

"You haven't even looked around the whole store yet," Harry objected, steering him to inspect further and finding themselves faced with a large frog tank.

The frog in the tank was vivid lime, so painfully bright to the eye. Tom tapped at the glass, uninterested, watching with cynical attention as it hopped into the water, pushing with its back legs until it reached the other side. Beside the frog tank dozed a snake in a pond-like aquarium. The serpent lay idly on the stoned rocks, paying no heed to the two wizards, it's forked tongue flicking in and out.

A small girl nearby stuck her face outside the tank, chocolate brown eyes wide in awe.

"Mama, mama! Look, it's so ugly and scaly," she cried, her chubby hands banging loudly against the glass. The snake lifted his head at the rattled nuisance, it's stone-like, steel eyes embedded in an unbroken sheath scales, he watched the girl with a predatory gaze before revealing two large fangs and hissing.

The little girl screeched, balking in fear. The serpent coiled itself, basking in the taste of fear.

 _"Stupid humans,"_  it hissed,  _"Don't disturb my sleep, pathetic vermins."_

Tom, without any signs of fear, tapped the glass and grinned as the snaked tilted it's large skull, watching, unblinking with reptilian eyes.

_"Another foolisssh child... Won't be smiling when I take a bite of him."_

_"You take a bite of me and I will make you regret it."_  Tom hissed back in parstletongue.

The dark green serpent balked in surprise,  _"The youngling speaksss our ssserpent tongue."_

The serpent bobbed his head,  _"Take me with you, I've never met the likes of you. You will be a worthy master."_

Tom's mischievous black eyes glowered with an dark excitement like pristine stones of onyx.

Harry could almost hear Tom's delight to being referred as, "master." And it made Harry queerly frightened because of the strong resemblance between this young child and his future nightmare.

Swiftly remembering the man next to him, Tom turned and looked up at Harry, his black eyes drilling into his green ones. Mistaking his guardian's shock for something else, Tom rolled his eyes and said,

"Is it really that strange to be able to talk to snakes?"

 _"To others but not to us,"_ Harry said in parseltongue, his lips stretched into a soft smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"You can do it too," he remarked, a crooked, pleased grin forming on his pale cheeks. "How is it strange to others?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, "It's uncommon."

Tom stood deep in thought before proclaiming, "Will you buy me that snake? You promised I can choose any pet."

"I didn't exactly say any pet," Harry sighed, none the less, he told the shop keeper they had made their choice for a pet and pointed at the coiling cobra who buzzed excitedly at being taken in by two parselmouths.

 _"Thossse other sssnakes will all be jealous of me. I have two ssspeakers and they will be stuck with anglo-tongues,"_ The snake hissed to Tom.

"Are you sure?" the tall, ginger wizard muttered, "It's a poisonous cobra and dangerous around young children."

"Yes, we're quite sure." Harry reassured, grimacing at the shop keepers befuddlement.

For the first time, Tom radiated a child-like persona as they left the store. Harry inhaled cold air into his lungs, ignoring the greedy spark in the child's eyes.

The two wizards apparated together from Diagon alley, returning to their quaint Sea Lavender Cottage. Near the fireplace stood a small round tea-table, and upon it a vivid red tea-kettle. Harry set up dainty cups and saucers of fine china upon a miniature silver tray that held a sugar-cup and a cream-pot and a pair gold-lined souvenir spoons. Tom sat across Harry, twiddling with his golden spoon, his anxious face betraying his eagerness for questions.

"Can other wizards speak the snake language?"

"It's parseltongue and yes, but very few. We're the exception, of course."

"Parseltongue," Tom repeated, pleased with the new definition. "Who else can speak Parseltongue besides us?"

Harry crossed his legs, a heavy silence settling over them. "I'm not sure. Parseltongue is a trait we inherited from the Gaunt family. Perhaps we're the only ones."

"Just me and you?" he asked.

"I'm sure their are others." Harry said, his thoughts directed to Morfin and Marvolo Gaunt.

Harry could see the peak of interest in those black eyes but like every emotion, Tom easily suppressed it with an emotionless mask of disinterest.

"Could my father talk to snakes too? _"_ he inquired, fiddling with his fragile china cup.

The older wizard chuckled, "No, but your mother could and through her, you inherited this trait."

Tom appeared puzzled, "But my mother couldn't have been able to. She was a pathetic excuse for a witch."

Harry shook his head, regretting the topic of conversation, "No, your mother was a parselmouth, not your father."

"You're lying!" Tom hissed, his words cold, slicing rather than tumbling through the air. "My father was the talented, powerful one, not her!"

"I'm sorry but you're wrong," he objected calmly, "it's impossible for you to have inherited magic from your father because he didn't have any."

Harry waited for a moment before adding, "He was a muggle."

His anger was immediate and violent. There was no warning, just a full-out burst of tantrum.

"Your a liar," he growled, "My father was a wizard! You're just trying to trick me."

"I'm not," Harry said tiredly. He wanted to say more but did not desire to add more fuse to the fire.

"Yes you are!" he hollered, his scream like agony seeping in Harry's skin.

 _'He's just a confused child, be patient.'_ He had to reassure himself.

"You can say that all you like but it's the truth."

For a second, Harry expected Tom to explode but was shocked to find him still and calm, like a tranquil stream after a storm. His facial expressions showed no signs of feelings but his dark, hallow eyes sparked with indifferent coldness.

"If she was a witch," he began, his voice eerily soft, "How could she have died so easily?"

A jolt of pity pierced from within, inhaling slowly, "From a broken heart."

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he stared coldly into his emerald eyes, "Then I hate her. Only weakling's die from a broken heart."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but shut it quickly at Tom's hardened, bestial expression.

"And I don't care for him either! I hate muggles and I hate him!" his dark eyes held a deadness, a stillness that reminded him of a viper's slit-like pupils.

"Tom..." he started gently. A dark wave of magic swept over Harry and he grimaced at it's strength and fury. The lamp overheard began to flicker, cracks appeared from the ground beneath as the cottage shook similar to an earthquake. There was terrible rumble and the windows glass burst like over-heated glass, and yet, the whole time Tom betrayed no surprise nor fear in those dark midnight eyes while his magic went havoc.

"Tom, calm yourself." Harry raised his voice sternly. Slowly, the shaking retreated and soon all was calm again, although the broken glass and cracked floor spoke otherwise.

Riddle stood, his onyx eyes empty like a dark void and hands fisted painfully to his sides.

"I want to be alone." He murmured, storming out of the kitchen area and leaving a conflicted Harry behind.

Harry waved his wand in a sweeping motion and said, "Reparo."

The furniture flew back into place; glass re-formed in midair and stuffed back into the window sills; broken places, cups and cutlery fit back like puzzle pieces and the cracked ground floor was wiped clean.

He fell back onto the cushioned chair, his hands resting upon his face and sighing. It would be better off to let Tom be alone for the time being and it was also good for Harry. Today, Tom's dark, vicious behaviour reflected so much of Voldemort that it made Harry hard not to stop himself from shuddering.

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	6. The Notorious Grindelwald

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The rain bore down mercilessly upon the lavender's cottage rooftop, pounding like a heavy hammer above Tom's head. Harry was away at work and Riddle found himself entertained and occupied by reading the new books Harry bought him from their first trip to Diagon Alley. His new pet lay coiled at the foot of his bed, forked tongue flickering like black sparks from his fangs.

 _"I'm going to call you Nagini,_ " Tom hissed to her,  _"It means Serpent Queen."_

 _"What a peculiar name but it'sss better than nothing,"_ she responded, bobbing her large head up and down.

Tom turned his attention back to reading his book on curses and counter curses, devouring and studying the new found knowledge in critical analyzation. He came across the full-binding spell-  _Petrificus Totalus_. The full-body binding curse stiffened a person's limbs so they are immobile, with only the person's eyes free.

Raising a single hand, Tom waved his fingers over Nagini and steadily said,

"Petrifucus Totalus."

Nothing happened, not even a spark or sound. Riddle frowned,  _"I can't do anything without a wand."_

_"Can't you ask the older ssserpent-speaker for his wand?"_

Tom shook his head,  _"I know he won't give it to me."_

Nagini chose not to respond, instead the serpent lay comfortably on Tom's warm bed and winded itself around a cotton blanket.

Suddenly an idea popped into his head and Tom jumped up, frightening the relaxed cobra.

 _"Come along,"_  he commanded and the snake obediently slithered down the bed.

Tom entered Harry's room and observed the meagre furniture of a plain desk, patterned covered bed and a slick, wooden cabinet. He rummaged through his clothes, searching for something out of the ordinary but only finding a pair of holed socks.

" _What are you doing?"_ the snake asked, gliding up Tom's leg and resting around his hip.

" _I want to know if he's hiding a sssecret."_

No matter how deep and thoroughly Tom rummaged through the closet, desk band cabinet, he found nothing out of the ordinary. A realization came to Tom and he sulked his shoulders. Nagini easily detected her master's agitation and embarrassment.

" _What isss it?"_

 _"I"m sssuch a fool!"_ he hissed,  _"Harry's a Wizard so of course he would use magic to hide his sssecrets."_

" _What would he hide?"_

Tom shrugged, coming to the conclusion that perhaps he was being too paranoid.

_"I want to know why he adopted me. There must be an good reason besides usss being related."_

The serpent tightened itself around Tom narrow waist and hissed,  _"Like what?"_

 _"Perhapsss I have ssome big fortune stashed away and he wantssss it."_ Tom said, though he doubted it himself. Harry was too honourable and kind to do such a horrid and immoral thing.

_"Big fortune? I do not understand you're meaning, little human."_

Riddle shrugged and looked annoyed,  _"Of courssse you wouldn't. You're a sssnake with a sssmall head."_

 _"Careful youngling,"_ the female serpent warned,  _"My bite is fatal unlike your baby teeth."_

 _"And I have magic."_ Tom snapped back, knowing he won the argument.

 _"That you can't use,"_ the snake retorted back.

Riddle snarled,  _"You'll be charred meat when I do learn."_

" _I'll bite you before that happens."_  The snake hissed silkily, flicking her forked black tongue in the air.

He rolled his dark, midnight eyes and stalked out of the room, deeply unsatisfied. Harry, his mysterious guardian, was hiding something and Tom knew every time he stared into those emerald eyes that it was more complex than he could ever imagine.

Tom heaved out an annoyed huff and returned back to his room, collapsing on the bed and sulking with overflowing delusional thoughts.

 _"You ssspend to much time with those scribbled papersss."_  Nagini hissed,  _"You ought to look for prey."_

He glared at her, repulsed at the suggestion,  _"There called bookssss."_

 _"Humansss have odd names for everythng."_ Nagini complained, bobbing her head over the stalks of books and inked paper. Tom chose to ignore the complaint and buried his face in his palms.

" _I must know more about Harry,_ " Tom said, more to himself,  _"He's hiding something, I know it. I can feel it."_

He hated the feeling of not having control or being unaware of someone. Tom knew the orphanage and it's occupants like the back of his hand. He was well aware of every orphan and their deepest, darkest fears and secrets. There was never a time when Tom didn't have a grasp of a person, never a moment he was ignorant of their inner turmoil. They were all so easy to read and wore their emotions on their face, defenceless and unafraid to be dependant on others.

Harry was different, his behaviour were far more puzzling and Tom was frustrated that he could never figure out his motives.

" _One day I will figure him out,"_  he vowed,  _"I don't care how long it takes, by the end of the year I will know everything about Harry. I will know his secrets, fears, desires, past, family—"_

 _"You humanssss think too much_ ," Nagini interrupted, twisting and spiralling around his blankets.  _"We ssserpents care very little of other ssserpents._

 _"I wouldn't expect much thinking from a small-minded snake."_ He bit out. A twisting screech of a door knob was heard from outside his room and Tom sprang up on his feet, immediately knowing it was Harry.

He waited a few seconds, not wanting Harry to come to the conclusion that he had been waiting for him all day, even if it was true.

The older wizard appeared haggard-looking, clearly tired from the long day at work; weary with the burden of his fatigue and bleary-eyes.

"How was your day?" Harry asked, his everyday greeting smile plastered gently on his exhausted face.

"Not as exhausting as yours," he said, inspecting his guardians dishevelled appearance.

"Got attacked by an Russian hag today after we emptied out a tomb in Novgorod. It wasn't pretty." Harry sighed tiredly, "She wasn't much of a pretty sight too."

"Hags aren't known for good looks." Tom told him, recalling a passage he read in his books.

Harry nodded, tousling his already messy hair even more. Before he could rest his well-defined face on the armchair, Tom quickly said, "I've finished my books and I want to buy more."

"I've re-read them all three times," he added hastily. "Can't we buy more?"

For a second, Tom thought he was going to refuse but Harry eased himself to stand upright and nodded.

"Alright, but only one book so you must choose carefully."

The savouring swell of eagerness bloomed in Tom's chest and he hurried to grab his coat. The apparition transport was smooth and effortless, no complications arose and Tom was secretly proud of himself for not having the urge to vomit.

This time, Tom spent more time wandering Diagon Alley, seeking for a different bookshop from before. Harry lagged behind, not too far from Tom. He sighted a large book store built in red-brick and above the heavy doors read,  ** _"BlueHart Bookshop."_**

Curious, Tom entered and felt instantly satisfied at the neatness and organization of the bookstore, the far opposite of the first one they shopped at. There was row after row of neatly lined up books with their spines facing outward, colour coded with dots, and arranged in alphabetical order in all kinds of magical subjects.

"This is a good book," Harry said suddenly, reaching over to grasp a book bound in red leather and lined with brown stripes.

"Expelliarmus Spellbook." Tom read out loud, "That's a defensive spell."

"Yes, you're right." he said, "It's a disarming charm and is very useful duelling spell."

Riddle sneered, "It sounds like a pathetic excuse for a spell. What good would it do to knock things out of an enemies hand? Curses are far superior."

Harry disagreed, "You're forgetting that a wizard and witch always have their wand in hand. The spell forces the opponent to release their wand and leaves them vulnerable and unable to fire back a spell." 

Tom face remained stoic and unconvinced, "I'd still use some nasty curse. If I'm ever in a duel, it would also be to harm."

Tom Riddle suddenly froze, he let his mask fall and accidentally said too much. He bit his bottom lip in frustration and cursed his vulnerability around Harry. Unexpectedly, Harry didn't look shocked but instead disappointment flashed from those green eyes and for the first time, his own words made Tom feel guilty.

"You're wrong," Harry said quietly, "That spell has saved my life a dozen times." His somber expression echoed waves of nostalgia.

"I'll take the book," Tom told him and Harry nodded, a soft smiled spreading across his cheeks.

"Never under estimate the simplest of spells, Tom. Those are the most useful."

They both fell silent, but not that type of silence that gnawed their insides. Their silence was comforting and peaceful.

"I'd like to open up a savings account at Gringotts," Harry said, breaking the consoling quiet.

"Your work-place?"

"Yes."

They trudged along the wet pavement in a sedate pace, avoiding collisions with the other wand-bearers in the busy, almighty swell of Diagon Alley. Gringott's large, imposing structure and location was easily spotted, anxious to see how Goblin's looked like, Tom entered first.

The entrance hall of Gringott's was loud and numerous grumpy goblins sat atop high tables, stamping and signing away bank documents.

A weedy-looking witch marched past him, muttering under her breath about self-entitled goblins. Tom listened listlessly to the dull clamour, noise of transactions, the clink of gold coins and urgent undertones of business. Short goblins scurried past, carrying scrolls of bank notes and records in their long-fingered hands.

"Good Evening," said Harry to a free goblin, "We've come to open up a new account."

"Under who?" The goblin asked rudely. Tom glowered at the ugly creatures impertinence. Harry seemed to sense his discontent and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Tom Morvolo Riddle."

He was taken by surprise and hid his gleeful smile by focusing his attention to the goblin on the right examining precious red stones through an eyeglass.

"This is going to be your savings account for Hogwarts." Harry told him.

Tom showed he understood and they both followed a pair of goblins out of the entrance hall. He had expected more marble but found himself in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. The Goblin whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. All three climbed in and they were off, the little card pulling itself through a twisted maze. Out of nowhere, he saw a gust of fire and gasped.

"Dragons." Harry said and Tom shut his gobsmacked, wide mouth.

The cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall. When the latch door was unlocked, it was empty and caked in dust and webs. Harry retrieved a small purse from his pocket and placed it inside.

"Is Hogwarts too expensive for you? Is that why you must save?" Tom asked bluntly.

Harry's body tensed up, "The cost of tuition, spell-books and other necessities can take quite a toll on finances. But that shouldn't worry you and besides, we still have four years."

Tom hummed, his curiously building, "What if I was still an orphan? How would I be able to pay?"

"There's a fund set-up for magical orphans and those from impoverished families."

The ride back to the heart of Gringott's was fast and swift, Tom paid very little attention to his surroundings and accidentally barrelled straight into a tall Wizard. The man was garbed in a excellently tailored Wizard robes in deep emerald green, stiff in embroidment.

"Careful boy!" the man snapped angrily.

"It's Tom Riddle to you." Tom said coldly.

The Wizard scowled further, "A mudblood. What luck."

"Come along Tom," called Harry, who was further away to have heard anything and busily distracted by the pestering Goblin.

Tom gritted his teeth as he watched the finely-dress, wealthy man stride away with an air of self-importance. He hid his foul mood with a neutral facade and followed Harry out. It would be years before Tom learned what the word meant.

* * *

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The foreboding, dark mist revolved around Gellert Grindewald, symbolizing his wickedness and a power-hungry desire for vengenance. The darkness was lisping through the misty, frozen air and the Wizard with his emitting, dark aura was an ominous sight for any unfortunate muggle or magical folk. Grindewald lurked through the blackness of the forest, an evil within him awakening and tearing through the forest like a hurricane.

"I know you're here," he hissed, brushing his long locks from his face, "There's no point hiding, Krum. I can see you."

He waved his fabled wand, a tree cracked and a man's strangled cry rooted on mortal terror came from the shadows.

"Come on, Hextor. Show some bravery in the face of death. No one wants to die a coward's death."

A man from between the trees approached, shaking and covered in dirt and grit all over his tattered, finely-made robes.

"What d'ya w-want, G-G-r-rindewald?" the pale man asked fearfully, beads of sweat running down his face.

Grindewald breathed a disappointed sigh, "Crucio."

The screams from the torture were shrill and filled with unimaginable, excruciating pain. Krum's eyes widened with horror, the mouth rigid and open, his chalky face gaunt and immobile.

"Show some respect to your superiors, Hextor Krum." Gellert said in a mockingly sweet tone.

"I-I'm s-sorry." Krum chocked out, shaking from the aftereffects of the pain, his fingers digging deeply into the fresh soil.

Grindewald paid no heed to his apology and marched absentmindedly back and forth on the forest floor.

"I've been having a bit of trouble," Gellert began to say with an odd tone of friendliness. "My wand hasn't been…it's best self."

"The e-elder w-wand, sir?"

Irritated, Gellert once again raised his wand. The pained scream mixed with the icy wind chocked the breath from the tortured man's lungs like a noose around his neck.

"Yes, you fool. It is my only wand."

His fury made the Crucio curse stronger and Krum doubled in pain, groaning and writhing restlessly until Grindewald felt any second longer would kill the Wizard.

"This is no time to play the simpleton," he told him coyly, "I know your work as an Unspeakable has given you background knowledge on the elder wand."

"I-I cannot be certain…" he began but the dark expression on the dark lord's face made him instantly change his tone.

"I-I-It's c-c-complicated," he stuttered, his brown eyes drawn out in fear.

He raised his hand again, the elder wand grasped tightly in his palm.

"No! No! Please… I beg you…"

Grindewald ignored him. There was a blast of yellowish white light and Krum let out a scream of agony, writhing traumatically and fat tears streaming down his pain-ridden face.

"Stop… stop… I know… I swear! I swear I know!"

Gellert lowered his white hand and glared distastefully at the weakened Wizard, a surge of vicious anger surging through him like poison.

"If you provide me with an inadequate answer, my followers will haunt your family down and the family name Krum shall no longer be in existance." Gellert threatened, grinning manically at the frightened response his words initiated.

"T-there has b-been an i-interference w-with another…"

Grindewald sighed, visibly annoyed. "Half-answers aren't good enough. Perhaps it is best if I finish your despicable life."

"No, no! Wait, wait… There's more!"

The dark wizard desired to kill him but Krum's desperate knowing-look made Grindewald allow for a final chance.

"Go on," he hissed, "Say what you have to say."

"There's another Wizard… I b-believe he's been hindering your performance with the wand."

He growled and impatiently played with his wand, "Don't lie to me, Krum. I do not appreciate make-believe stories."

"I do not lie!" Krum protested, heaving distressingly. "A-another magical force… it's been tempering with the wand… some wizard… I do not know his name."

Gellert Grindewald furrowed his eyebrows, not knowing what to make of this information.

"If this is true, how do you know of this?"

Feeling immensely relieved at the change of tone, Krum scrambled onto his knees and said, "In the department of mysteries, our seer foresaw a green-eyed wizard with all three of Death's gifts… I believe he may be the reason for your troubles."

"A green-eyed Wizard, you say?" The dark lord murmured, deep in thought.

"Yes, yes!" Krum said hurriedly, nodding.

"You make a better story-teller than a Unspeakable, my dear Krum." Gellert said softly, a harsh smile settling on his face.

Krum's face fell and he crawled away, scared witless.

"Spare me… I beg of you, spare me! I have a son…"

"And that son shall be spared." Gellert said simply, advancing like a predator towards the other who squirmed on all fours.

"I'll join you!" He said, trying without success to persuade him, "Make me apart of your army, I shall serve you faithfully."

"One time, I would have allowed it, but you know of my secret."

Grindewald displayed the fabled wand, "This secret."

Green, ominous lighted the dark forest momentarily, the skeletal branches flashed green and the man soared through the air, limp and dead before he touched the ground.

"What a waste of pure wizard blood."

With those final words, Grindewald vanished into the dark, ominous night.

* * *

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The atmosphere in the curse-breakers headquarters began from jovial and honest to tense as the heavy-load of paperwork piled with every passing minute. The sun outside Gringott's shone bright and warm, teasing Harry's growing desire to leave his desk and venture into the sunlight.

"How's it going?" said a friendly voice that Harry immediately recognized as Diggory's.

"Not bad." He told him, a lie. Harry shuffled some paperwork back and forth on his desk to keep his irritation in check.

Diggory noticed the lie and said, "The goblins are very strict with our notes being ready precisely on time. Especially after a failed mission."

"I know," he responded, disappointed, "I'm going to be here all day and I have Tom waiting for me at home."

"Tom?" he said, curiously.

"My son," he said absentmindedly, not spotting the shock that he resonated.

"You have a son?" he repeated, fazed. "You seem too young to be a father."

"My adopted son," Harry corrected, "We're distant relatives and I adopted him as my own."

Diggory nodded understandingly. "And I assume he won't be too happy by the late return?"

He shook his head, recalling Tom's angry face and sad, lonely eyes.

"Besides his pet snake, I'm his only company."

Reitch Diggory grinned, "Why don't you and Tom come visit my Aunt one day? My young niece, Fanny, will also be there."

Harry liked the thought but he knew Tom hated meeting strangers and was prideful over whom he associated with. Besides, Tom never showed an inkling of kindness to other children. He was about to decline but Diggory intervened.

"Fanny is seven and will attend Hogwart's in four years, maybe Tom can make a friend before coming to Hogwarts?"

The idea was appealing, even if the old Tom Riddle refused to make friends, perhaps his Tom Riddle could learn the important of friendship. Just as Harry had learned with Ron and Hermione.

"That would be nice, thank you."

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	7. A Dark Magic Curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy Muggles! Sorry for the long wait, I promise this story is not abandoned and I'll post regular updates during the summer.
> 
> Before reading this chapter, please go back and re-read the last few chapters so you're all caught up and understand what is happening!

Howdy Muggles! Sorry for the long wait, I promise this story is not abandoned and I'll post regular updates during the summer.

Before reading this chapter, please go back and re-read the last few chapters so you're all caught up and understand what is happening!

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Tom Riddle huffed his chest, annoyed at the muggles that swarmed the streets of London like insects; bodies pressing close, gaunt faces and dark, grey coats matching the dirty ground below them. He hated the sore sight of muggles; their thousand faces all identical in self-pity and grim looks. They were dirty, their ways filthy and wanton. But he hated even more that they reminded him of the orphanage.

"Why are we here?" Tom demanded, annoyed at Harry's willingness to mix with muggles.

"Dinner with the Diggorys. I've already told you." Harry told him, grinning. His smile relinquished Tom's earlier irritation and Tom wondered why a single smile could change his mood so much.

"I know! Why aren't we apparating?" Tom asked.

"I've always enjoyed a good stroll," he responded cheekily, throwing in a wink. Tom rolled his eyes but did not further complain.

They wandered through each chartered, grey-cobbled street walking past homes of red-brick, plain white buildings until they reached a small city lane, the street lamps glimmering in the frosty cold as the fog hung thick. A muggle postman rushed past them and a few poorly garbed boys skipped along the stones, flashing their skinny ankles and limbs. The two Wizards trudged through the lane until they reached a tidy, finely-groomed manor.

"Why did they choose to live in a muggle neighbourhood?" he asked, frowning.

"Muggles make good neighbours." Harry smiled cheekily.

"They do?" Tom asked sarcastically. He curled his lip and stared at the large white manor that symbolized upper-class wealth amongst the dirt of London.

Harry stepped forward on the polished marble stairs and with a flick of his wand, invisible knocks banged on the wooden door. At once, a dreary elf dressed in the typical house-elf attire opened the door.

"Ah, Mr. Gaunt and his ward," the old elf said quietly, it's black eyes darting uninterestingly between the two. "Come in, come in."

Tom glowered at the aged house-elf for referring to him as the 'ward.' Harry hardly noticed the remark and stepped inside. He was quickly greeted by a beaming, handsome man dressed in elegant navy blue robes.

"Harry! It's quite odd to see you outside of Gringott's."

"A relief as well." Harry replied. He turned to Tom and put his arm around his shoulders. "This is Tom."

"Ah, yes! I remember Harry talking about you!" Diggory beamed as he met eyes with Tom. "Tell me, are you excited for Hogwarts?"

Tom easily slid on a polite smile, "I am."

"It seems like only yesterday I was sitting in the Hufflepuff common room and playing exploding snap." Reitch Diggory said dreamily. Tom hid his displeasure of the man's openly cheerful demeanour and smiled back politely.

"Come, let me introduce you to everyone." He led Harry out of the foyer and Tom followed further behind but waited till they turned a corner, far from sight and hearing. As swift and agile as a snake, Tom turned furiously at the clueless house elf. The ugly creature shrieked in shock as Tom tightly grasped it's arm, twisting it painfully till the ugly elf cried out it pain.

"Quiet!" he hissed into his large, floppy ear. "Listen to me and listen to me well."

The frightened elf nodded hurriedly, his large black orbs widening in fear.

"You will call me, Sir, not ward or any other lowly title. Do you understand?"

The house-elf nodded and Tom released the elf's arm. The house elf rubbed the red mark that blossomed into a swelling welt. The creature took a few steps back and stared fearfully at Tom's triumphant smirk. Adjusting his slightly ruffled robes, Tom entered the well-fashioned sitting room and immediately rooted himself beside Harry who was busily greeting a shrunken, old witch wrapped in a golden yellow dress. Harry followed the pureblood custom of kissing a witches hand.

"What a charming friend you have, Reitch. Why haven't we met him before?"

"You know how's it like, grandmama. Work keep us all at bay." He answered.

She shook her head in disapproval, banging her cane on the tile, "Ah, yes. That job I strongly disapproved of."

The old witch huffed, "You ought to have followed your forefathers footsteps and worked in the ministry of magic! The Diggory's have always risen as head of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Our Reitch is an adventurous one, he's always enjoyed a bit of danger." Interjected a nearby middle-aged woman, "And curse-breaking is fine work, mama."

"Yes, yes and so is breeding blast-ended skrewts," she grumbled, wobbling past them.

Reitch displayed not an inkling of dismay over his grandmother's harsh words and greeted the other witch with kisses on both cheeks. "Aunt Jenny, it's been a while."

He turned to Harry and introduced the two. After they both greeted each other with pleasantries, Reitch presented Tom.

"Tom here is Fanny's age. Your daughter is here, is she not? Perhaps the two can become friends."

Tom grimaced but hid his dislike with a neutral expression. The last thing Tom needed was to play with a foolish, little girl. He found children to be baffling little creatures that cried all the time.

"Fanny, Fanny!" her mother called. A small, scrawny girl with frizzy hair carelessly pulled into pigtails and face sun kissed with dark freckles approached. Fanny was dressed in a soft peach dress that ill-suited her thin and scrawny body. The second she met eyes with Tom, her face turned a deep shade of red.

He gave her a friendly smile, as what was expected of him, and Fanny grinned back, revealing her crooked teeth. She was far from pretty and Tom knew that behind her timid exterior, she held uncontrollable insecurity.

Tom was relieved of the duty to make conversation with Fanny when a house elf announced dinner was ready. The party entered the glittering dining hall, witches first and the wizard swiftly followed. Tom was met with the mouth-watering sight of tables laden with whole roasted beef, large platters of fowl stuffed with savoury fruit and nuts. Countless cheeses, breads, vegetables, sweets, waterfalls of wine, and streams of spirits that flickered with flames garnered the long dining table.

He took the seat next to Harry, pointedly ignoring Fanny and listened attentively to the adult's conversation as they ate.

"An owl from the Smith's came last night with the most dreadful news." Piped up a young brunette with a busty figure. The feasting witches and wizards turned their attention to her with curious faces.

"What is it, Helga?"

Helga set her fork down, wiped the edges of her mouth and continued, "Zacariah's Hogwarts letter never arrived in the summer."

Gasps and shocked mutters were heard throughout the dining room. A tall, lanky wizard beside Tom muttered a curse under his breath.

"Merlins beard! Has it been confirmed?" asked the grandmother, clutching the cuff of her dress. She looked like a melon in her yellow dress that was about to burst.

"Headmaster Dippet owled a letter himself confirming the worst. Dear Zacariah is cursed a squib," said Helga.

Fanny's mother shook her head, "And all those times his parents went to the extremes to force accidental magic out of him. All of it was in vain."

Helga nodded, "Poor child. His parents must plan a way to integrate him into muggle society. He'll be a laughing stock amongst the magical community."

"What do they have planned?" Fanny's mother prodded, twisting her napkin anxiously.

The brunette shrugged, "The only option is to send the boy away for schooling amongst muggles."

Tom furrowed his eyebrows, he had already determined what a Squib was. No Wizard would be sent to a muggle school unless they had possessed no magic.

The Diggory's murmured phrases of condolences, each one promising to send sympathetic letters the next morning to the Smiths.

Dinner was finished after goblets of fire whisky was refilled and the party poured into the drawing room. The room they entered was decorated in cheerful, bee-like colours of yellow and black, the bright colours highlighted the polished, honey-coloured wooden tables and round doors. Above, hung a profusion of plants and flowers, dangling and waving as Tom passed by. A large tapestry hung over the mantle-piece, a yellow banner with a badger.

He turned and saw Harry engaged in conversation with a tall, good-looking blonde woman. Tom narrowed his eyes, jealousy spreading like poison when he saw her well-manicured hand rest on Harry's arm. He took a step forward but his path was cut-off by a freckled girl. Fanny smiled stupidly, her face turning red as she fidgeted aimlessly with the hem of her dress.

"W-would you l-like to come see my c-collection of chocolate frog cards?" she stuttered nervously.

It took every fibre of his strength to not scowl. "Not now." He said bluntly, pushing past her.

She stared back at him, crestfallen as he turned his back to her. Tom couldn't care less about her feelings and approached Harry, visibly irked at the blonde woman's intimate gestures.

"Ah, Tom!" Harry said excitedly once he spotted a brooding Tom approaching. "This is Romilda, a co-worker from Gringott's."

"Nice to meet you," Tom said sweetly, his angelic exterior hiding the roaring demon inside.

"Oh, what a charming boy!" the blonde witch exclaimed, "I've never imagined you as a father, Harry."

"I'm still getting over the shock myself," Harry replied and the blonde giggled profusely.

A flying patter filled with tall glasses of firewhiskey hovered near the two and both Harry and Romilda grabbed a glass. She continued to flirt shamelessly with Harry, her hand resting gently on his bicep whilst Harry drowned his glass.

Tom frowned, disliking the woman's closeness. He noticed that she was standing nearby some lit candles and with simple concentration, he created a tiny spark of fire on the hem of her sleeve. Romilda gasped and instinctively flapped her arm. With a quick mind, Harry waved his hand fluidly through the air and the flame evaporated.

"Oh Harry! You're such a darling," she purred, placing a soft peck on his cheek.

Annoyed, Tom realized he made them closer. Harry seemed to momentarily forget about Tom's presence as he stared into Romilda's vivid blue eyes.

"Tom, why don't you go get some dessert?" Harry told him, waving him to the table on the far side of the room.

He opened his mouth to protest but in the corner of his eyes, could see Fanny approaching. Internally cursing, Tom swiftly turned and disappeared behind a couple of Witches.

"Perhaps you'll have a stepmom soon?" Fanny's mother teased, her warm eyes glistening.

Tom snarled, a look of disgust on his face as he stormed off and left behind a bewildered Witch. Tom clenched his teeth, the very idea of that blonde bimbo as his stepmom made his stomach quench and eyes blind with fury. If she ever visited their home, he would make sure Nagini took a bite out of her white, ivory flesh.

Tom casually walked around the room, observing the inconsequent polite conversation, canapes and pouring wine. But mostly eyeing Harry and that wench. After some time, he grew too annoyed at watching Romilda's seducing antics and left the drawing room. He sat in a cushioned chair and opened a book he snuck from home and began to read, momentarily forgetting about the two.

He grew lost in the book, flipping page to page and hungrily devouring every sentence. He came across a few curses and imagined using them on Romilda. Time seemed to fly and the chatter and music began to distantly wade into stillness.

"Reading? Really, Tom?" A voice drawled from behind. Tom quickly snapped out of his daze and Harry arched an eyebrow, as if waiting for a response.

"Where did that... woman go?" It took every bit of Tom's strength not to call her a whore.

Harry snickered, stumbling a little and with a glossy look in his eyes. "She went home, just as we ought to do."

Tom stared at Harry for a moment, he looked... awfully different. Once aware why, Tom sniffled distastefully.

"You're drunk."

"No, not at all," he said stupidly. Tom gave him a incredulous stare and Harry sighed, "Alright, maybe a little."

Tom scoffed, closing his book and standing up on his feet. "I want go home," he said forcefully.

"That's right, it's past your bed-time."

The young boy rolled his eyes, "Stop treating me like a child."

"You are a child."

"And you're a drunkard," he snapped.

Harry burst out laughing and Tom couldn't stop the small grin from escaping. His smiles were contagious.

Just then, the same house elf that greeted them at the entrance approached with their winter robes.

"Mr. Gaunt, your robes." Once the house elf turned to Tom, the elf's face drained of colour, "S-sir," the house elf said, gently placing the robes on his small shoulders. The creature clearly didn't forget his previous lesson.

Tom smiled victoriously and followed Harry out, who was far too intoxicated and oblivious to notice the exchange.

Harry walked slowly out the door, to avoid stumbling.

"I can't apparate..." he mumbled, "I drank way too much firewhiskey."

Tom stared at Harry, sensing his apprehension and feeling strangely satisfied. For the first time, Tom was the strong one whom Harry had to rely on because of his drunken state. It gave Tom an advantage and a certain power over Harry. He took Harry's hand in his and carefully led him down the street so he wouldn't stumble.

"How are we going to get home?" Tom asked briskly.

"We can walk," he deadpanned.

Tom felt a spike of annoyance race through him and he gave a short, derisive laugh. "Have you lost your wits?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, he lost his balance for a moment but caught himself quickly.

"Or... we can take the bus."

Instantly Tom's expression darkened. The thought of rubbing shoulders with muggles made him uncomfortable and disgusted. His status as a Wizard reminded him that he was superior and one day, if he truly wanted to, could blast them into tiny pieces.

Despite his gnawing apprehension, Tom kept a calm exterior and unemotionally said, "Are you serious?"

Harry nodded, his head slightly lolling to the side, "Do you want to summon it?"

Tom rolled his eyes, smirking at how ridiculous Harry sounded. Obviously Harry had never taken a muggle bus before. "Are you daft? We have to find a bus stop."

Harry looked momentarily lost before laughing, "Oh no, Tom. We're not taking a muggle bus. That would be ridiculous."

He scowled, hating to be reminded how little he knew of the Wizarding world.

"Then what?" Tom snapped, "Are we to take a magical bus that appears out of nowhere in a puff of sparkles?"

"Precisely!" said Harry said excitedly before appearing crestfallen, "Although there is no sparkles."

Harry sighed sadly and swayed in his feet, staggering slightly in a drunken stupor. Tom's quick reflexes caught Harry just in time before he could fall over.

"What must I do?" Tom asked impatiently, he was growing wary of standing in the cold and ached to slip into the warm confines of his bed.

"Stick your wand hand in the air." Harry said, yawning into his hand.

They stared at each other for a few, long seconds before Tom broke the silence. "That's it? No incantation?"

"Well if you'd like," Harry drawled, "You can say blip blop blah."

Tom scowled and without lifting a finger, Tom had a pebble hit Harry crossly on the face.

"Ow!" Harry yelped, "That wasn't very nice!"

He bluntly ignored Harry and lifted his right arm into the air as instructed and narrowed his eyes as he was greeted with silence. Just when Tom was about to turn around and fix Harry with a scathing glare, there was a loud bang and a triple deck bus pulled up on the side of the road with speed of lightning. A conductor dressed in a hideous purple suit to match his equally hideous bus gave the two passengers a disinterested look as the opened the doors.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded Witch or Wizard with all the comforts for all wand-bearers. My name is Pat Flarepot and I will be your conductor for this night," the conductor said in a bored, droning voice. "Where in Magical Britain do you Wizards need a lift to?"

Tom easily took control and maturely told the conductor their destination, "Sea Lavender Cottage on the Shores of Galtic Sea."

The conductor seemed briefly confused before nodding his head in understanding, "Near Catchpole, eh?"

He returned a brief nod and focused his attention to helping Harry up the steep Knight Bus steps. Before Harry could climb any further, the conductor blocked the door-way and quickly said,

"That'll be 32 sickles for you and the little boy."

Predictably, Harry reached into his pockets without complaint while Tom glared at the man with piercing dark eyes for his impudent tone.

The conductor flashed a toothy grin once handed money and allowed the two on board. Inside it was dim except for the candles burning in brackets above the numerous four poster beds placed crossly on the wooden floor. Tom momentarily thought all the beds were empty until he spotted a pink-spotted night cap from a snoring witch peeking from under the quilted blankets.

Just as Tom stepped forward, there was a loud booming sound and with a flash, the knight bus was recklessly speeding through the streets. The next thing Tom knew, he was lying on top of Harry who himself lay flat on a four poster bed. He looked out the dark windows and his stomach churned as they whirlwind past Georgian-era squares and buildings.

"What brilliant Wizard designed this contraption?" Tom asked sarcastically, feeling nauseated. He had just recently gotten used to apparition and found the Knight Bus increasingly more nerve-wracking.

Harry shrugged, laying his head softly upon the white pillow, "Some minister, forgot the name."

Tom's stomach suddenly churned as the bus jumped and mounted a pavement; narrowly missing lines of lamp posts, trash cans and mailboxes.

"Lie down," he heard Harry say drowsily, "It's not as bad when you're laying down."

He stiffened in his seating position, "I'm fine."

Harry grinned and warily closed his eyes, "Suit yourself."

Tom watched as a tall wizard dressed in ripped robes and talon marks clambered up the stairs with a jar of fresh meat. He grunted his destination and thumped his way up the stairs, muttering darkly to himself about magical beasts. As the Wizard walked past, Tom noticed a pinkish roan feather stuck to his back and from his recent read, Tom quickly deciphered it to be a Hippogriff feather.

Minutes past and London's busy streets vanished from sight. Outside his window, Tom could make out flashing trees peppered with quaint muggles homes as they sped past. Suddenly, the driver jerked the wheel and Tom landed painfully hard on the wooden floor below.

Embarrassed, Tom snarled irritably and quickly jumped back on the bed, this time heeding Harry's advice and laying beside him. He tiredly shut his eyes and his mind became foggy from the fatigue of a long day. As he lay there, Tom felt an arm curl around him and pull his small body closer. In normal circumstances, Tom would have frozen and pushed Harry back but the lurching and leaping of the Knight Bus made him welcome the closeness and eased his growing nausea.

His head rested on Harry's chest and Tom listened attentively to Harry's steady heart beat. But as he lay there, a gnawing apprehension occupied Tom thoughts until he could take it no longer.

"Do you like that woman Romilda?" he burst out, a slight tinge of pink flushing his pale cheeks at his outburst.

"Yes."

Tom heart stopped as he smelt the firewhiskey from Harry's mouth and heard the dreaded answer.

"Although," Harry added, "I'd like her more if she didn't use her Veela Magic on me tonight."

He lifted his head, "What?"

"Veela Magic," he repeated. "It's a form of magic used to attract man."

"She's a Veela?" he asked, shocked. From what he remembered reading, Veela's had bird-like heads, scaly wings and appeared more similar to Harpies.

Harry nodded, "I'm sure she used some spell to disguise her magic at Gringotts or I would've noticed long ago."

"Wait... does that mean she..." Tom trailed off, realizing how pointless his jealousy had been.

"Yes, she used her magic to seduce me at the party," Harry sighed. "I could have easily resisted if I didn't drink a glass of firewhiskey."

For a second, Tom didn't know whether to feel relieved that Harry hadn't fallen for her antics or angry that he was seduced by a Veela. He resigned to being pleased but deep down, he vowed that her behaviour would not go unpunished. Even if it took him years, Tom promised himself she would face retribution.

Tom eased his head back down on Harry's chest, hiding a malicious yet satisfied smirk. He resumed his listening to the rhythm of the heart beat, each and every pulse like a lullaby. His head began to loll and the muscles of his face relax, releasing his earlier tension. Limbs and eyes grew heavy and with a steady breath, Tom fell soundly asleep.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep but when Tom awoke, he was laying in his own bed and the moon-lit night sky outside his window resembled a dark shade of blue. Quietly, he opened his door and immediately spotted Harry passed out on the quilted couch. Beside him lay a potion to relieve drunkenness, an empty goblet and a few medicinal herbs.

Harry looked so peaceful, almost like a child as he slept. His messy hair was messier than usual and Tom spotted a scar he never fully noticed before peaking out from under his silky hair. Tom traced his fingers across Harry's face, enjoying the smooth feel of his face before pausing at the scar. There was this sudden apprehension Tom never felt before as his fingers hovered above the lightning scar. He gently placed his fingers on Harry's scar and an intense hotness swept over him, a powerful sensation of magic hummed around them before feeling cold that went deeper than his skin.

Far away, he could hear terrible screaming and Tom saw saw a red-haired woman screaming, pleading, begging, crying. Her body was shielding a crib where an eerily calm baby sat, despite the danger it was in. The woman with fiery red hair was saying something that Tom couldn't properly make out to a dark-hooded figure that loomed above her, his strong magic whipping dangerously. The dark figure raised his wand and suddenly, all Tom could see was vivid green, flashing light that exploded. The baby began to cry, wailing amongst ruins of a once beloved home. Near the broken crib, lay the body of the dead woman. Her once fiery red-hair covered in soot and dirt.

Tom snarled, hating the sounds of a crying baby, "Shut up! Crying won't bring her back!"

Instantly the baby ceased its crying and stared at Tom with glowing green eyes. Those familiar emerald eyes sliced into his soul and he felt a an overwhelming feeling of a bond, as if the two shared the same mortal soul. Before Tom could think anymore, the vision vanished and he was back in the cottage living room and staring into the same glimmering emerald eyes.

Harry's face was flushed, green eyes widened in shock and fear.

Tom never saw Harry look so vulnerable and frightened that he himself became agitated, "I don't know what I did!"

Harry groaned in pain, placing his hand on the scar, "You weren't supposed to see that."

"What was that?"

The older wizard heaved a deep breath, "It was a memory. A memory of my mother's death."

Tom stiffened and carefully approached Harry.

"Who was that man with her?"'

Harry froze and clenched his fists, his eyes refusing to meet Toms.

"A dark wizard."

He glanced at Harry's creased brows and tense face, his curiousity building. "What did he do?"

"He killed my mother." Harry said simply.

Tom pursed his lips, unsatisfied with Harry's simple answer, "But why did I see that memory?"

Cold sweat glistened on Harry's furrowed brow. With hands clasped tightly in front of his stomach he began to fiddle with his knuckles, weaving his fingers in and out of each other.

Harry turned away to stare out the window, "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" he asked impatiently. "Doesn't every magic have a reason of what we see or feel or-"

"No," Harry interrupted him, "Not all the effects of magic can be easily explained."

Tom furrowed his eyebrows. "What sort of magic is your scar?"

A heavy silence settled over them and Harry gently sighed, "It's from a curse, Tom. A dark magic curse."

Tom nodded, his curiousity building like a cat fixated on a prey. "What's so different about dark magic?"

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably under Tom's scruitanzing gaze, "Dark magic isn't like regular magic, Tom. The curse that gave me this scar was cast with evil intention so its manner of working is unexplainable."

"Is it more powerful?"

He shook his head, "Not necessarily. Both dark and light magic have powerful capabilities."

"That dark wizard... is he powerful?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, "He is very powerful."

Harry stared numbly at the ground then lifted his head and gave Tom a weak smile, his eyes betraying his grief.

"You have nothing to worry about." Tom suddenly said, awakening Harry from his stupor.

Harry stared at him for a moment and then began to chuckle. His sudden change of mood made Tom feel peculiarly elevated.

"Besides, one day I'll become very powerful and take care of you." Tom said confidentially.

"Suits me fine," Harry drawled. "Will you make breakfast too?"

Tom scowled, "No, you can make your own."

"Talking about breakfast, what do you want?"

"Bacon and eggs," Tom said quickly, shuddering at the memory of thin porridge at Wools Orphanage.

Harry stood and headed for the kitchen area, humming as he flicked his wand and sent three eggs into the air. Tom gazed as Harry chose to crack the eggs with his hands like a muggle instead of using magic. Tom turned back to his room in search of Nagini, unaware of the emerald eyes that guardedly watched him.

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End file.
